


If the Shoe Fits

by SonicoSenpai



Series: Fairytales [8]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, Child Abuse, Cloud Cinderella, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Entire fic dedicated to spank Cloud’s cute butt, M/M, Male Cinderella, Prince Sephiroth, Public Humiliation, Slavery, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28715259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai
Summary: In this AU, Cloud Strife has just lost his mother. His living situation with his stepfather, Mayor Lockhart, and his daughter Tifa has turned abusive.Cloud inadvertently meets Prince Sephiroth during a punishment at the public square. Sephiroth interferes and Cloud falls in love.Just to clarify: this is a tale in which Cloud’s situation gets much, much worse before it resolves.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Series: Fairytales [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1168568
Comments: 279
Kudos: 242





	1. The First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve written Cinderella AUs before—and somehow they keep getting darker and darker. Sensitive readers, this may not be the fic for you. I do have a happy ending in mind, but I’m going to make Cloud suffer horribly to get there.

He’d been in his early teens the first time he laid eyes on the handsome prince. It wasn’t under the best circumstances—shortly after his mother had passed and his stepfather, Mayor Lockhart, was punishing him for rebellious behavior.

“You won’t obey. Your role here is not the same as my daughter’s. Without your mother to protect you, you are subject to whatever I deem fit.” Cloud remembers hearing the exact words.

“I’m sorry, Father,” he had replied. In all honesty, he hadn’t known how to clean out the fireplace the way he was now supposed to do. He was familiar with most of the farm chores, but since his mother’s passing, he was required to pick up the slack in the household as well. His stepfather had lost a large investment in his merchant trade business recently. In addition, the medical expenses to keep his poor mother comfortable in her last days had strained the family’s budget. To make up for this, Cloud was required to take over the duties of two maids and a farmhand.

“Call me sir,” his stepfather had commanded. “And I’ve already punished you once for your lack of conscientiousness. I don’t see how else we are going to deal with this if you refuse to learn.”

“Sir?” Cloud had asked.

“Come along, child. Tifa, join us and learn from your stepbrother’s mistake.” At that point, the mayor had cruelly grabbed Cloud’s ear and dragged him to the town square.

Cloud had witnessed public punishments before—maids who stole from their mistresses, farmhands who had their way with maids (or other farmhands) in the barn—and he was frightened. But he respected his stepfather and wanted to please him, and so he came along as required. There was no need to handle his ear so roughly, he thought. He was almost an adult, after all, at fourteen. He would have gone wherever he was told.

Once they arrived in the town square, the mayor attracted plenty of attention. All eyes were on him—and Cloud as well—as he pushed his stepson toward the stockade.

“As you can see, even in my household, we have to discipline our children,” he announced pompously. “When our usual techniques don’t produce results, we bring them to the public square to make an example out of them.”

While still speaking, the mayor pulled his stepson’s arms through the stockade before closing the top, effectively pinning him in place. Cloud was nervous but also wanted to please his stepfather. He’d already cleaned the fireplace a second time, and so he couldn’t figure out how to get out of this situation. Instead, compliance seemed the best way to diffuse his stepfather’s anger.

Tifa stood by and watched silently, her forehead slightly furrowed in frustration. She bit her lip, struggling not to say anything. She knew well that she’d infuriate her father if she spoke up on Cloud’s behalf, but inwardly she cringed as she noticed the adolescents in their peer group gathering around to watch Cloud’s humiliation.

It wasn’t as though Cloud was unused to beatings at home. Especially since the passing of his mother, the mayor used a heavier hand with him. For the same infraction, Tifa might receive a mild scolding. Cloud, on the other hand, would get the birch or cane. At this point, Tifa saw the whip coiled at her father’s hip. He’d never used that to discipline her before. Part of her believed he was saddened at the loss of his wife, and Cloud looked so much like her that taking out his feelings on the boy settled her father like nothing else would. In any case, she watched and waited, wondering why Cloud was so compliant and obedient.

As far as Cloud was concerned, he knew very well that struggling would do nothing except prolong the punishment and his humiliation—which was about to get much worse. Once restrained in the wooden stockade, he lowered his gaze to the cobblestones in front of him to avoid the direct ogling of the ever-growing audience.

“Please let this be over quickly,” he prayed inwardly to Odin with a sincere heart.

He had been trying so hard to please his stepfather—making sure he never burned their meals and that they were served precisely at the designated mealtimes. His days were filled with chores from dawn till dusk—household and for the farm—leaving him no time for learning. This had changed, too, since his mother had passed. When she was sick, it was natural for Cloud to help out more. But once she was gone, Tifa had gone back to her usual routine—needlepoint, dancing and music lessons, language learning, and so forth, assuring she’d become the eligible bride her father wanted her to be. His stepsister had mentioned she missed their sparring, but that was forbidden harshly by her father. To make his point and discourage his daughter from activities he deemed unsuitable for a female, he beat Cloud harshly with a cane in front of her, bringing her to tears even before Cloud.

The words around Cloud floated senselessly in and out of his ears. He tuned them out purposely, concentrating on calming his breathing to prevent any further anxiety. However, once he felt the mayor’s hands unbuckling his belt, a shudder went through his body and he couldn’t hold back a tiny, soft-spoken plea for mercy.

“You’ve earned this, child,” the mayor said ruthlessly.

In a rough, business-like manner, he pulled down both Cloud’s trousers and underwear, leaving him exposed and vulnerable in the stockade. Cloud felt the humiliated blush creeping from his cheeks into his ears and neck, but there was nothing he could do about it.

The humiliation was so distracting that Cloud almost missed the first crack of the whip. When it connected with his bare thighs, he screamed. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet. But once the whipping began in earnest, he couldn’t hold back his screams. He also couldn’t disobey or escape in this position—he couldn’t move, he couldn’t cover himself, he couldn’t do anything to further infuriate the mayor. He supposed it was a blessing, to some extent. And screaming—well, it indicated the pain he was suffering to a satisfying degree.

He’d been hoping for no more than a dozen lashes, but Cloud lost count after the twentieth fell against his skin. He could feel blood dripping down his legs as his knees buckled. Even without being able to support himself, the stockade held him firmly in place, and the beating went on and on.

The pain became so intense that it overpowered his humiliation of being publicly exposed. It was still emotionally painful—knowing that he had disappointed his stepfather to such a degree. While another youth in his position might have resented his guardian for treating him so cruelly, Cloud had been trained from a young age to obey his parents. He loved his mother and his stepfather, too. For the life of him, he couldn’t find out how to please the mayor, however.

The whipping went on and on—and through the jeers of the crowd, Cloud thought he heard Tifa pleading for mercy. Her pleas went unanswered, of course. Cloud could do nothing but bear his punishment and beg for forgiveness. Tears and snot ran down his face, dripping into a puddle on the stones in front of his feet.

After an eternity, the whipping abruptly stopped. While gasping for air to catch his breath, he heard a gorgeous, deep voice rumbling, “Mayor Lockhart, explain your actions.”

Cloud didn’t recognize the refined voice, however.

“Whatever the child did, surely it does not justify such brutal punishment. He's just a boy, after all.”

Cloud didn’t dare look up, but his heart lifted at the merciful judgment. The mayor sputtered indignantly, saying something about keeping the discipline in his household and rebellious young men being unwilling to do their chores.

“I deem this punishment sufficient,” the voice stated firmly, a little closer to Cloud than it was earlier. Within his eyesight, still cast down to the stones in front of his feet, a pair of perfectly shined black leather boots filled his vision. The workmanship of the boots was unlike anything he’d ever seen—and Cloud’s family was better-off than most in the village.

A soft leather glove touched Cloud’s chin, encouraging him to lift his gaze. Normally, Cloud would have been too ashamed to meet anyone’s gaze in this position—but this was his savior. He wanted to thank the man for stepping in on his behalf. No one had ever stood up for Cloud before and had any effect.

Bright, sea-green eyes with a slit pupil met his sky blue ones. The color of jade, but with an ethereal glow, was the loveliest he’d ever seen. Cloud’s heart jumped in his chest, and tears of gratefulness spilled down his cheeks. A halo of the most gorgeous, silky hair framed the handsome face, accenting defined cheekbones and an elegant nose, and lips that were soft and pink and plush.

A fresh blush filled Cloud’s cheeks at the sight of the man. The blood pooling in his lower half, trying to heal the punishing lashes, traveled to his groin, and Cloud was ashamed to find himself getting hard in front of the man—in front of the entire village, exposed as he was.

“You’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you, little one?”

The gorgeous silver-haired man couldn’t have been much older than Cloud, but he stood a head and half taller than the youth. His skin was pale, almost white, and his lashes dark and long. To Cloud, he looked like an angel.

“What is your name?” The man asked.

“I’m Cloud,” the boy responded immediately, slightly intimidated by the man’s dominant presence. Who was this person who could so fearlessly interrupt the mayor’s discipline session?

“Cloud, you won’t cause any further problems for your father, will you?”

“No, sir,” he replies, still captivated by the other’s angelic looks. Who was this person? Cloud longed to know but was too intimidated to ask.

“Good boy,” the man replied, keeping hold of Cloud’s chin and running his fingers through his messy blonde hair. “You look too sweet to be rebellious.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cloud mumbled quietly, still captivated by the other man. A confusing sort of fluttering went through his heart at the soft words of praise.

“You will release him now, Mayor,” he continued.

“Of course, Your Highness,” the mayor replied. Hastening to comply, he released the heavy stockade from Cloud’s wrists and neck.

Cloud’s legs were unsteady, and he slid to the ground without the support of the restraints. Before he collapsed, however, a pair of strong arms caught him.

“Let me help him home. He’s received a severe reprimand. Now, you must let him rest and recover for the day.”

“Sire,” the mayor said, “the boy still has chores to complete.”

“Surely it won’t hurt for him to rest for a single day. After all, you’re the mayor. You have others who could fill in for him. And you've exhausted him.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

At the term of address, Cloud belated realized that the gorgeous man could only be the crown prince of the kingdom. He was known to be beautiful but cold-hearted, so of course, his interference surprised Cloud. He was lifted into the prince’s arms but squirmed immediately.

“Y-your Highness, I-i will s-sully your clothes,” Cloud whispered. His stomach felt like it was infested with butterflies, the fluttering inside was nearly enough to make him nauseated.

“Do not concern yourself with that, Cloud,” the prince replied. “Just relax.”

To the village’s surprise, the prince carried Cloud back to his home, refusing to give up his small burden even when others insisted on help. The mayor was delighted to have the prince in his home. Any attention from royalty was a treat and would serve to increase the mayor’s popularity.

“Where is his room?” The prince asked.

“Oh, in the attic, sire,” Tifa replied.

“You don’t have to bring him there,” the mayor said quickly. “He can get there on his own.”

“It’s not an inconvenience,” he replied, taking the steps two at a time for both flights of stairs.

The prince ducked his head to enter the bedroom. It was a tiny room with a single bed, a dresser, and a desk that was seldom used. Cloud kept his spartan room neat and tidy. He’d be punished otherwise.

“This is where you sleep?” The prince asked.

“Yes, I’m sorry the roof isn’t tall enough for you,” Cloud replied quietly.

As if he were something precious, the prince laid Cloud down on his side on the small bed. Cloud blushed freshly when he realized that he was still bare from the waist down. He struggled to sit up momentarily, just to adjust his clothes, but the prince stopped him.

“Be still. Let me heal you.”

To Cloud’s surprise, the prince adjusted a bangle on his wrist, casting a Cure spell over the young man’s injuries. A gentle warmth encased Cloud’s body, soothing his burning, bleeding skin.

“The old man didn’t hold back,” he commented, casting a second Cure. “What did you do to earn this punishment?”

“Um, I didn’t clean the ashes in the fireplace to his satisfaction,” Cloud said, embarrassed.

“Aren’t you the mayor’s son?”

“I’m his stepson. I never met my father, and the mayor married my mother when I was younger.”

“And your mother allows this treatment of you?”

“She passed away two months ago,” Cloud admitted. “Please don’t concern yourself with it. I will do better next time.”

“What I meant to ask was when do you see to your education?”

“Education?”

“Yes. You’re underage, aren’t you?”

“I’m fourteen.”

“You should still be able to finish your education. Our kingdom requires its children to learn.”

“Oh. I was tutored before Mom passed,” Cloud explained. He shifted slightly in the bed, realizing his skin was still exposed. Struggling for modesty, he quickly pulled up his underwear and pants. His skin felt much better, though his muscles were still sore and stiff. “I, um, I just don’t have time now. I still have the books, though. I read them whenever I have a spare moment.”

“No time?” The prince asked.

“The chores—they take up most of my day.”

“Do you do all the household chores?”

Cloud nodded.

“And the farm chores as well.”

The prince looked displeased.

“Why hasn’t the mayor hasn’t hired help?”

“He doesn’t need to. I can usually get everything done on my own.”

“And your sister? She helps as well?”

Cloud shook his head.

“She stays in the home and is learning to become a lady.”

“And yet, you are not educating yourself to become a gentleman?”

“My father needs help around the house.”

“I see,” the prince replied. “It seems you are harshly treated.”

“Oh no, sire,” Cloud said. “I am only punished when I fail to meet the mayor’s expectations.”

“And if he has a bad day?”

“Well, his expectations are sometimes hard to meet.”

“I see,” the prince said again. “I will speak to him on your behalf.”

“Please don’t! Um, sire,” Cloud added when the prince met his gaze sharply. Those eyes were so strange and so lovely.

“Why not?”

“He, um, he does his best, sire.” Cloud glanced down at his hands for a moment. “He misses my mother and I remind him of her. I’d hate for him to send me away.”

“Hmph,” the prince hummed unhappily. “But you deserve your own life. As the mayor’s son, too, you should have the privilege of an education and to determine your future. You don’t want to be a servant for your entire life.”

“I’m grateful to have a place to live, sire,” Cloud replied softly. He finally dared to look back into those strange green eyes. “I appreciate your help. Thank you.”

He was rewarded with a genuine, small smile. The expression melted the prince’s cold exterior to something even more gorgeous. Cloud blushed at the sight, wondering about the strange fluttering in his chest. He was embarrassed to feel this amount of attraction to any person—much less the crown prince.

“You just rest for today. And please, take my card.”

Cloud was delighted to receive the elegant card—printed on heavy card stock with embossed initials and foil accents. It was lovely.

“Um, thank you, Your Highness,” Cloud said, dipping his head. Realizing he hadn’t bowed to show his respect, he tried to rise from the bed, only to have the prince fuss him back to bed.

“No, just rest. Please come to me if you need any assistance.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

The prince gave him a wry smile.

“That is not something of which I’ve often been accused.”

He leaned in to ruffle Cloud’s soft, spiky hair. He was so close that Cloud could smell him—a soft vanilla scent with hints of floral tones. It made Cloud’s mouth water, to his shame.

“Don’t hesitate, Cloud.”

“Thank you, sire,” he replied sincerely.

With a gentle nod, the prince took his leave. Cloud strained his ears to listen to the prince descending the stairs. He thought he could hear a brief conversation between the prince and the mayor, but he was too far away to understand any words.

Cloud rested on his bed, relishing the warmth and the pleasant feeling in his body. He took the rest of the day to relax and recover, undisturbed, and away from his daily chores.


	2. Cloud’s Life as a Servant and the Second Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud’s life continues after he’s rescued by Prince Sephiroth. It isn’t going well. There is a second encounter with the prince, however, that cheers him up a bit.
> 
> TW: child abuse, non-consensual spanking, beating, sexual suggestions. Also crappy writing. I almost never write in 3rd person, so please forgive me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m absolutely blown away by the positive response this fic has received. I am a fan of dark fairytales, and this fits in that category. Thank you so much for reading and kudo-ing and taking time to comment!
> 
> That being said, this is a dark fairytale, so take care of yourself while reading!

Cloud’s home life didn’t get any easier after the prince’s interference. While Tifa continued to grow and learn, well-paid tutors teaching her dance and music, Cloud took care of the home with varying degrees of success. He was efficient at cleaning and laundry, had learned new recipes, did his best to bargain for the lowest prices at the market, and took care of the chickens and cows. He realized that his life was different from those of his peers every time he went to the market.

Despite his ability to learn and adapt, Cloud still wasn’t able to perform his duties to his stepfather’s satisfaction. After several conversations with Tifa, he realized that part of his role was to provide an outlet for the mayor’s grief—and subsequent stress, once the grief over Cloud’s mother subsided. While he was no glutton for punishment, Cloud wasn’t in a place in which he could change anything about the situation. He was beaten and called an ungrateful brat when he asked for permission to continue his studies, for example. His stepfather believed it was Cloud’s job to _obey_ —the same as his daughter obeyed him—but the expectations he held for Cloud were much steeper than for Tifa.

Cloud tried not to resent his stepfather, but he was confused about his role in the family. He’d always considered himself to be Tifa’s equal and her sibling, at least until his mother passed. This new role was more a family servant than a son. The mayor disciplined Cloud harshly for even the most minor (or non-existing) infractions—each beating harsher and longer. Hardly a week went by in which Cloud _wasn’t_ punished. It felt, to a certain degree, that he was being punished for his mother’s death. To avoid worse beatings, Cloud was compliant—maintaining his position without trying to protect himself, making sure he didn’t cry or scream until he was in too much pain to do anything else—all in hopes to please his stepfather. Yet, nothing Cloud did was enough.

For example, on one occasion, the price for flour had skyrocketed at the market. Cloud’s freshly baked bread was a family staple, and they couldn’t well go without flour. However, despite his best efforts, he wasn’t able to negotiate a price comparable to what he’d paid the previous week. He would have to ask the mayor for more shopping money, which was given to him for household expenses. When he came home, he wrote in the ledger exactly where the money had been spent. Then, he went back to his usual chores, including baking a fresh batch of bread and starting on dinner.

When the mayor came home from his daily meeting at the town hall, he headed into the office with the ledger. Within minutes, he emerged with steam pouring out of his ears.

“Strife, explain yourself.”

Since his mother had passed away, the mayor had reverted to calling Cloud by his mother’s last name, Strife. It further isolated him, making him feel alone in the world and not part of the family into which his mother had brought him. The mayor’s reasoning was, with Cloud’s rebellious teenage years, he brought nothing but strife to the family. Hence, the name was fitting. Cloud didn’t dislike his mother’s last name. But he didn’t enjoy the isolation it brought. Nor did he appreciate the other boys his age calling him a bastard.

“Stepfather,” he began, but the mayor gave him a harsh glare. “Sir,” he quickly corrected himself, “due to the grain shortage, prices of flour have risen drastically this week. I negotiated the price from 30 Gil per pound down to 20. I thought you’d be proud of me.”

“Not at all,” the mayor growled. “You’ve used up the entire month’s budget and we still have two weeks left! I expect _you_ to make up the difference!”

Cloud didn’t receive an allowance, nor was he paid for any of the work he did around the house. His face fell as he realized he didn’t have any money of his own to reimburse the cost of flour. But the mayor raised his hand and Cloud kept obediently silent.

“I know. You have nothing of your own. So here’s what you will do. You will not receive any portion of bread this week. You can survive on the leftovers and on other starches. Potatoes should do well for you. And I will take the rest of the money out on your hide and in your service.”

“ _Please_ , sir!” Cloud had just been whipped the day before and the welts were still uncomfortable and painful. He’d been punished for serving dinner two minutes past the evening bell. In addition to the cane, he’d been forbidden meals in the dining room, instead being made to eat alone in the kitchen. “I can’t make it rain! I can’t make grain grow when there’s no water! I did all I could to negotiate the best price and I did it _well_!”

It was rare for him to stand up to his stepfather. He shook with nerves as he did, but he felt justified in defending himself. He truly did not believe any of this was his fault. He _wasn’t_ being wasteful. It was simply a matter of low supply and high demand. But the mayor would have none of it.

“That’s enough sass from you, brat. I’ve tried my best for your wonderful mother’s sake. But you’re beyond help at this point. Finish preparing dinner and then wait for me in the woodhouse. You’ll want to make sure dinner is ready since you won’t be able to walk or sit once I’m finished with you.”

Cloud tried not to groan in his father’s presence, but there was nothing else he could do. A beating in the shed usually involved nudity and a whip, hidden away to prevent Tifa from hearing his screams and to prevent corrupting her with the sight of his bare body. Still, he remained obedient—finishing up as much of the stew as he could and making sure the bread wouldn’t burn in the oven. Then he washed up and headed to the shed in the backyard.

Of course, the mayor wasn’t waiting for him. Cloud ended up wasting time he could have spent on chores or even catching up on his reading. Instead, he spent the time cringing about how much a whipping would hurt over the caning he’d received yesterday. His heart ached and he missed his mother. Before her death, the mayor had raised his hand to him only a handful of times—and those times, he'd probably deserved punishment. His mother had made sure that he wasn’t beaten ruthlessly. Now, there was no one to protect him from his father’s displeasure.

Did Cloud truly believe he didn’t deserve these punishments? If they gave his stepfather solace and comfort, who was he, as a loyal stepson, to refuse or disobey? If his body might be used to soothe his father's pain, it was worth it. Wasn’t it? But was this really his life now? Cloud couldn’t help but remember the prince’s kind words and soft facial expression. He’d never longed for comfort so much as he did right then.

After about half an hour, the mayor finally joined Cloud in the shed.

“Strip,” he commanded. “Take off everything.”

Cloud hated this part. The mayor believed that punishment over clothing was less effective than on bare skin. But the humiliation of being completely naked in front of anyone was hard to bear. Still, he did his best and obeyed, taking off everything and folding each piece of clothing neatly. The straw felt pokey underneath his feet, and he hoped he wouldn’t get any splinters. Cloud knew where to get into position as his father closed the door and secretly, he was grateful for the privacy. He obediently bent over the stool left out specifically for his punishments, grabbing onto the legs to keep his hands from moving.

“I should hope this will teach you to squander away money that doesn’t belong to you. I work hard to put food on my table, and I won’t have you wasting it!”

Cloud was well aware that he could ease his impending punishment somewhat, simply by agreeing with whatever the mayor said and being contrite and repentant. He’d learned the hard way that any form of disagreement or protest would be met with a longer and harder beating.

“I’m sorry, sir.” He was tempted to add that he’d done his best, but he didn’t. He bit the inside of his cheek, ashamed at the fact he was being punished two days in a row.

“That caning last night still hasn’t healed. This is going to be particularly effective, I hope.”

It always felt weird to hear his stepfather commenting on his body. And even worse, when his hand ran over the welted skin. It was a common occurrence, and the mayor had said he had to make sure Cloud would be able to take the beating without undue damage. Still, it felt invasive and wrong to be touched this intimately by someone who was supposed to be his parent. A part of Cloud was extremely disturbed that he sometimes felt a gentle flash of pleasure from his father’s touch. Not because it was his father, but because he was so utterly alone and any amount of comfort was welcome.

To Cloud’s dismay, his stepfather had chosen a paddle for this day’s punishment. From experience, having a second beating the day after he’d already suffered a caning would be worse than usual. The belt usually reserved for woodshed punishments left a burning sensation on his skin. The paddle left deep bruises and kept him from sitting for an entire week. He frequently caught the mayor glancing smugly at him, days after a severe beating, pleased that it hurt for the boy to sit.

Unsurprisingly, Cloud was stunned by the first blow of the paddle. At least in the woodshed, he was rarely required to count out loud. The mayor expected him to scream and cry, and Cloud never had to manufacture tears. This particular punishment felt especially cruel, and Cloud struggled to keep his hands gripping the legs of the stool. He stared straight down at the ground, watching the puddle of tears grow wider and deeper.

When the mayor continued after the twentieth blow, Cloud could no longer hold back his pleas.

“Please—sir— _please_ —I’m so s-sorry!” He stammered between the blows.

Hearing nothing but a growl, Cloud both longed for and feared a loss of consciousness. He knew it would be a wonderful relief, sinking into the darkness and not feeling anything. But he feared the repercussions of passing out. He knew the mayor would continue beating him, even unconscious. Cloud could barely take the burning pain—the paddle’s bruises combined with the cane’s welts. Despite his best efforts, his right hand flew back against his ass to shield himself from the next blow as he continued to beg and plead for mercy.

The mayor saw the boy’s hand and smacked it as hard as he’d been spanking his ass and thighs. There was a surprisingly loud cracking sound when the paddle struck slender fingers, and Cloud screamed in pain, tearing his hand away in an instant. Broken fingers—he was _sure_ of it!

Pleading for mercy, Cloud continued to cry and beg, but the mayor wouldn’t let up. Instead, he seemed to get even more violent. In between the hard blows, he’d breathlessly offer up his responses to Cloud’s pained cries.

“This is your own damned fault, lazy brat!”

“I told you to maintain your position!”

“What did you think would happen?!”

“Surely you realize I have better things to do with my time than waste it on your hide.”

“You’re the least behaved child in the village, Cloud! An embarrassment to the family!”

“How dare your spend my money so thoughtlessly!”

Each phrase wounded Cloud’s soft heart more than the last. How could he explain that he was trying his best to please? How could he let the mayor know how much he wanted to be a part of the family, that he’d do _anything_ to just be able to be a part of the family again? Instead, tears and screams took over the barn. Usually, screaming was a positive influence and would often be what would finally get the mayor to calm down.

“Damn it, boy,” he said, winded and lowering the paddle to the ground. Cloud gasped and panted, his tears still flowing silently, as his flesh burned angrily. “I require your services tomorrow. We’ll be having our meeting in our home. You’d better be able to get all your chores finished so you can serve us!”

“Yes, sir,” Cloud gulped. Unable to move, he remained in place as the mayor approached. Cloud tried not to flinch when he felt the soft brush of fingers against his bruised, welted skin. His ass burned, but his thighs were even more sensitive. Violent nausea rose in his throat as his stomach protested. Why was this the only time he received any tenderness? Fresh tears slid down his face as the mayor gave his ass a painful pat.

“Get a hold of yourself and then head to the river to clean up.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” Cloud sobbed miserably, still lurched over the stool, his legs hanging helplessly.

The mayor dropped a towel and a bar of soap on the ground next to the chair.

“It’ll save you a trip. Don’t come back inside until you’ve regained your self-control. There’s no need for you to distress Tifa.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied automatically, breath still hitching. “Ah—sir—the bread—”

“I’ve got it under control,” the mayor said. “Just clean yourself up and get to bed. You have a long day tomorrow. I won’t have you acting out in front of the council because you’re tired.”

“Thank you, sir.” He couldn’t say anything else, but Cloud felt a rush of relief the moment the mayor left the shed. He waited in position for a few more minutes—just to get his sobs under control. He pulled on a shirt carefully, even though moving an inch pulled and stretched his injuries. The pain was extreme enough to cause nausea. Before his stomach could revolt, Cloud yanked on his pants before rushing outside to vomit in the bushes.

Once he’d lost everything down to the dregs of yellow bile from the pit of his stomach, he pulled himself to his feet, gathering his underwear, shirt, boots, towel, and soap from the ground in the shed. He carefully made his way to the river, tears still fresh and skin smarting more than he could admit. This was one of the days Cloud longed to return to his room to slip his fingers around the card he’d received from Prince Sephiroth.

He fantasized about showing up at the palace, asking for an audience. He imagined the prince inviting him to stay—and as he got older and matured, those fantasies took on a sensuous bent. Cloud remembered the details of Sephiroth’s face, his plush lips, his strangely beautiful eyes, the halo of silver hair, his low rumbling voice. And most importantly, he remembered the prince’s kindness. When he thought carefully, he was certain his feelings were admiration for a kind person. He’d go out of his way to peruse the newspapers—after dark and always after the mayor had finished them—for any news of the prince. He kept the clippings in a flat box underneath his bed.

Sephiroth was next in line to the throne. His father, the current king, was a cruel man. He sent his young son to battle in response to several uprisings in neighboring counties. They’d refused to send their taxes to the crown, and the king wouldn’t risk further rebellion in his land. The battles had been fast and brutal—deadly for those in rebellion. The prince’s cold, often expressionless demeanor made the paper as often as his conquests.

Still, the rare depictions of the prince dressed in that intimidating leather uniform threatened to send Cloud into a frenzy. He’d collected a variety of illustrations and one rare photo, as well as many newspaper articles. He longed to take them out to touch and examine after this exhausting day came to a close.

Heading to the river to clean was exhausting, but he’d lost the privilege of using the hot water at home just two weeks earlier. Cloud had been relaxing after a long day, soaking in the bath after he had finished his chores. The herbs he’d sprinkled in the tub reminded him of vanilla mixed with something softly floral and in an instant, his mind was filled with Prince Sephiroth’s lovely silver hair.

Cloud rarely took himself in hand—even though his fantasies were normal for a boy his age. Because his days were so busy and exhausting, he seldom had the energy to give himself the comfort of self-love. Of course, nocturnal emissions made themselves well-known when he neglected himself too long.

So while soaking in the tub, behind the privacy of a closed door, he’d gently stroked himself to arousal in the water. Eyes closed, enjoying the silky touch of his fingers around his shaft and his other hand combing through the soft, fine hair below his belly, Cloud basked in the sensations. He didn’t, however, expect Tifa to come barging in. She’d seen what he’d been doing, leaving Cloud humiliated and ashamed. And unfortunately, she’d shrieked in embarrassment, which attracted the mayor’s attention.

His stepfather had been _furious_. Cloud had unwittingly soiled his precious daughter’s innocence—even though he’d been assured of privacy in the bathroom. It ended up one of the most humiliating, painful punishments Cloud had ever experienced. His entire backside had been belted first, then he was beaten with both a hairbrush and a bath brush, leaving his back welted, his ass and thighs bruised and purple. Cloud couldn’t stand when it was finished, and the mayor left him naked and wet on the floor in the bathroom.

“Get yourself washed off. You’re forbidden use of my bathing facilities from now on. How _dare_ you value your own, disgusting pleasure more than my daughter’s innocence?!”

“Sir, I’m sorry,” Cloud sobbed for the tenth time. In truth, Tifa never before entered when he was in the bath. He’d been assured privacy, he was certain. He’d never have taken the risk otherwise! “B-but where shall I bathe?”

“Take yourself to the river instead. I don’t care. You’re lucky to have a roof over your head, what with this abhorrent, perverse behavior! I ought to just kick you out on the street!”

Of course, Mayor Lockhart wouldn’t do that. He’d grown to rely heavily on the free labor that Cloud provided, in addition to the stress relief from subduing the boy’s body. But Cloud didn’t know this. He was miserable to have lost the sole source of physical comfort that soaking in hot water could provide.

However, Cloud complied with the new command. He arranged his days so that he could take time to head to the river twice per week—once on Sundays when the mayor took his daughter to church, and once on Wednesdays. The temperature of the river was ice cold in the spring, as it flowed with melting snow. As the days grew warmer, the river did, too, and it became its own comfort.

Today was not his usual bath day. However, he needed to get the injuries clean to prevent infection. On his own and far from civilization, Cloud stripped down and left his clothes next to the shore. He placed the towel next to his clothes and moved the soap and washcloth onto the riverbank. Today was one of those pleasant, warm days. It was early summer, the birds chirping happily from the trees and chasing buzzing insects—a stark contrast to the boy’s lonely mood and the pain throbbing in his backside and hand.

It hurt to get in the water—but the soap would sting even more. Cloud knew from experience that it was better to get the pain out of the way all at once, like ripping off a bandage. With another soft yelp, he dunked himself completely underwater, feeling a mixture of pain and relief with the cool temperature. Once the initial burn wore off, Cloud was left in a mindless haze as he soaked in the river.

The adolescent floated naked in the river on his back, watching the scattered fluffy clouds in the clear blue sky shift into strange shapes. He lost track of time, procrastinating scrubbing himself with soap. His fingers throbbed from where they were struck with the paddle, and the skin of his ass and thighs was raw. He knew the soap would sting, but he also knew he had to clean himself. It was the only way he knew to avoid an infection. The water soothed him, though, as he floated aimlessly. His mind was preoccupied about what he’d done to deserve such harsh treatment, and he really didn’t know.

He dove under the water, letting the cool temperature soak into his skin. While beneath the surface, he opened his eyes and looked around. The bottom of the river was a rich place for life, a strange unknown world. As he was lost in his thoughts, he was suddenly startled by a splash. He immediately swam to the surface—worried about his nudity. No one had ever found this spot by the river before. He was in an area slightly too deep to stand, so he kicked his legs to remain in place, watching the ripples pool away from where he swam.

To his horror, there were two young men close to his age standing on the river bank. The splash had been the sound of his clothes and towel being tossed into the water. Now, Cloud’s outfit was soaked through. Worse, the bar of soap was nowhere to be seen, and he worried what the consequences of losing an entire bar of soap might be upon returning home.

Tears stung his eyes in anticipation of his next beating. If he couldn’t find the soap, another beating would be issued today, he was certain, over the top of the welts and bruises already decorating his backside. He shuddered with horror to think of the pain it would cause and wondered if he might be able to locate the soap after all. He glared up at the two boys—he recognized one as Roche, who was from a wealthy family and interested in Tifa.

“Cloudy-poo,” Roche cooed. “You’ve got quite a body hidden beneath those clothes. You’ve really filled out since we all saw you at the town square. I’m disappointed we haven’t seen you there since then.”

Cloud bit the inside of his lip while swimming toward where his things had been thrown in the water. He gathered the pieces up while taking care to stay submerged, trying his best to ignore the other two boys.

Being bullied in town was nothing new. Since the public punishment, the taunts had switched to the shape of Cloud’s ass instead of focusing on his wild, yellow mop of hair that was so unlike anyone else’s. There were a handful of times in which bullies had pushed him into an alley and forcibly stripped him, in order to check his current level of obedience. He could only hope he’d be accosted and humiliated before the trip to the market instead of after. If he was carrying produce home, it was at risk of being crushed and stomped on, which would mean a return trip to the market and being punished at home for wasting money.

Why wouldn’t the boys just leave him alone?

“You still think you’re hot shit just because the prince interfered on your behalf? What a loser!”

“You’re not even a part of your family. You’ve been demoted to nothing more than a servant. The mayor only puts up with you because you remind him of your mother.”

“Yeah—does he use you at night, too? In remembrance of her? Calling out her name while he fucks you?”

“Shut up,” Cloud finally broke in, humiliation and anger overpowering his better judgment. “Don’t talk about my family that way!” 

Roche crossed his arms and laughed.

“So talking about your mother gets you going, does it? Hey, Cloud—you know, I never knew what a pretty shape you had. You interested in helping us relieve a little stress?”

“Fuck you,” Cloud growled, still gathering his clothes. The blonde was inexperienced with sex, but he was well aware of how it worked. He’d realized since he first laid eyes on the prince that his own sexuality leaned toward men—specifically, aristocratic, handsome royalty with kindness to spare. He ignored the blush on his cheeks warming his ears.

“Come on, man, be a team player,” the other boy jeered. “Think about it. You’d be saving the virtue of whichever girl we’d use in your place! Say—maybe you’d even be saving Tifa!”

“Shut up!” Cloud yelled. “Don’t think about Tifa that way!”

“Oh, she already has the hots for me,” Roche bragged confidently. “I could easily talk her out of her panties, you know. Wouldn’t you want to help save her from that fate?”

Cloud sighed in a mix of exasperation and despair. His clothes were spoiled. He was frightened to return home without the soap or in damp clothes. To his utter frustration, he still couldn’t find the soap. It sickened him—the thought of a second beating in the same day. Maybe he could hide its loss for a few days, giving his body some time to recover.

“Last chance, kid,” Roche warned. “You’re already naked. Why not swim on over here and save Tifa the trouble? You might even like it!”

“I bet he would! You saw how he was gaping at the prince!”

“No,” Cloud said firmly, still not looking at them. “You’re not going to touch Tifa. And you’re not going to touch me, either.”

“It’s obvious you lean in that direction,” Roche said. “I saw your reaction to the prince that time in the square. He’d appreciate a lover with a bit of experience.”

“I hardly blame you. He’s hot,” the other boy commented. “You probably thought he liked you because he showed you kindness. He just was _embarrassed_ for you, like the rest of us. He hasn’t got a kind bone in his body!”

Cloud burned in fury on the prince’s behalf while continuing to search for his clothes. He was missing a sock and his underwear, and he still couldn’t find the soap. Part of Cloud longed to brag about having the prince’s calling card, but he didn’t want to escalate the situation. There were two of them—and both boys were both older and taller than Cloud. He wasn’t sure he’d stand a chance against both of them.

“ _Who_ hasn’t got a kind bone in his body?” A deep, silky voice interrupted from the other side of the river.

Cloud jerked his head around, shocked at the familiar rumbling. It could only be the prince. Standing at the side of the river, armed with the Masamune on his back, the prince removed his sword and set it down, leaning it against a large, flat boulder.

“Cat got your tongue?” Sephiroth asked.

Cloud floated in the river a little past the middle, closer to Sephiroth’s side than Roche and the other boy’s. He was incredibly surprised to see the prince again, and his heart flopped in his chest. The prince had gotten even taller since the last time he’d seen him, and his muscles had filled out, obvious under the leather coat he wore. That iconic battle uniform had gained notoriety in the past year.

“Ah, Y-your H-highness,” Roche stuttered, struggling to take a knee. The other boy was silent, dropping to a kneel.

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Perhaps ogling the ladies at the market?”

“Sire,” Roche began again, unable to continue.

“Perhaps you both ought to find somewhere else to be,” the prince suggested smoothly. “Next time, pick on someone your own size.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” mumbled Roche as he grabbed his friend’s arm. The two darted back into the woods, leaving Cloud alone with the prince. At first, the blonde breathed a sigh of relief. Then, he stiffened like a bristling cat when he realized he was alone and naked with Sephiroth. Again. The prince would see him naked _again_.

“S-sire,” he said softly, trying his best not to stutter.

“Cloud. I was hoping to come across you again,” the prince said kindly.

Cloud glanced up and saw a small smile on Sephiroth’s features. He couldn’t look away when the prince stripped out of his coat, leaving his upper body bare except for the straps crossing his chest. Swallowing the lump in his throat and curving his body slightly to hide his excitement, Cloud lowered himself in the water. “Bring your clothes over here. Let’s see what we can salvage.”

Shyly and blushing red in embarrassment, he obeyed the prince.

“You don’t have to, um, help me, sire,” Cloud said, keeping his voice low.

“I know. But I want to.”

Cloud did as the prince asked, swimming awkwardly toward the other bank with his belongings in his arms. He still hadn’t found the other sock, his underwear, or the soap. Weird, he thought. Did one of those boys snag his underwear? Losing a sock, he could understand. But why would they—or anyone—be interested in his underwear?

Once he could reach, he planted his feet in the riverbed, letting his toes squish in the sediment to steady himself. Now, standing before the prince, once again exposing more than he felt was appropriate, he held his clothes around his middle. And the more he thought about it, the more awkward it got—especially as his lower half slowly filled with blood.

“Let’s see what we can do,” Sephiroth said casually.

Cloud was stunned and delighted that the prince remembered him. Sephiroth was royalty, after all. He must meet lots of people, Cloud thought. Cloud was hardly memorable. The back of Cloud’s mind hoped that they shared a mutual attraction.

“You—um, you remember me?” Cloud dared to ask as he laid his belongings out on the boulder in the sun. It was a difficult task as he tried his best to keep his lower body underneath the water.

“Of course I remember you,” Sephiroth replied, his voice and eyes soft. So green and alien—and so gorgeous, Cloud noticed. “How are your studies coming along?”

“Oh, um, I do the best I can,” he said, trying to minimize the pain that was his real life.

“Are you being seen by a tutor? Only the other day I heard the mayor bragging about his daughter’s accomplishments. I hope he’s been seeing to your education as well?”

“Sire,” Cloud replied, unsure of what to say. “I—um, I’m not sure I should say.”

“Cloud, it’s the _law_ in this country that all children should be educated.”

“I know that, sir. It’s just, um, I have been helping to run the house since my mother passed.”

“I see. What sorts of chores do you do?”

“I do the shopping and cooking, of course, and the cleaning and laundry,” Cloud started. He listed his chores on his fingers thoughtfully. “I manage the home finances and take care of the livestock.”

“Who helps you with this?”

“No one, sire,” Cloud confessed.

“Doesn’t that take up most of your day?”

Cloud nodded in reply.

“I read when I can—usually before I go to bed.” A soft blush warmed his ears and cheeks when he mentioned going to bed to the prince. Still, he couldn’t help glancing up to see Sephiroth’s expression, hoping to see attraction and desire. Instead, he was taken aback to find a flash of anger.

“So you _don’t_ have a tutor? You’re not attending group classes?”

Cloud shook his head.

“I’m sorry, sire,” he said, his voice quiet.

“Nonsense!” Sephiroth snapped. “Your job is to be taken care of by your parents. It enrages me to know that all your time is devoted to caring for those who are supposed to care for you!”

“My mother, sir, she is gone,” Cloud said softly. “I try to do what I can to make my father’s life easier.”

“He doesn’t appreciate you. He’s using you.” Running his fingers through his bangs, Sephiroth sighed. Cloud floated the river, hoping his towel would dry soon. This time, however, he floated on his side, trying to back away from the prince. “Hey. Come here.”

“Sire?” Cloud asked—hesitant to disobey when he saw the commanding look on Sephiroth’s expression. Someday, the blonde thought, _he_ would hold that sort of sway with others. He obeyed, of course, and swam over to Sephiroth, ignoring his discomfort with his nudity. It's nothing he hasn't seen before, after all, Cloud thought, dismayed.

“What is this?”

“What, sir?”

“Drop the title,” Sephiroth said, his voice low. “Just call me Sephiroth.”

“Yes, si- um, Sephiroth.”

“You are completely black and blue! What the hell happened?”

Cloud startled when the prince suddenly grabbed his bicep and pulled him out of the river. Sephiroth was standing at the shore—he must have unbelievable strength to pull him up like he weighed nothing. A fresh burst of arousal shot through Cloud’s groin, and he struggled to hide it.

“Was this the mayor? What did he do to you?”

“Nothing I didn’t deserve, sir,” Cloud said, ashamed for allowing the evidence of his disobedience to be seen.

“What was the offense?” Sephiroth repeated.

“The flour, sir,” Cloud explained. “Flour costs have tripled in the past week.”

“Due to the wheat shortage,” Sephiroth nodded, still examining Cloud’s body with way more scrutiny than the boy was comfortable with. “And?”

“Well, I negotiated a better price at the market, but I still had to use the entire month’s budget this week. My stepfather found out and said I’d make up the difference.”

“You’d make up the difference? Does he pay you?”

Cloud shook his head.

“He said he’d take it out on me, sir.”

“This looks like—gods, like a cane _and_ a paddle. That’s awfully extreme. In fact, if you negotiated a lower price, why would he be upset? It’s not as if you can make the wheat grow!”

Cloud just shrugged.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

The prince huffed another sigh.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, standing up. “This is not your fault. _None_ of this is your fault. Come. Let’s get this taken care of. This is unacceptable.”

To Cloud’s delight, the sweet-smelling leather coat was draped around his shoulders. He watched in disbelief when Sephiroth scooped up his clothes. He panicked, though, when Sephiroth turned to walk into the forest.

“Oh—wait, sir! The soap! I lost the soap!”

“We will use mine at the cabin,” the prince said. “Can you walk?”

Cloud nodded but hesitated.

“Sire, I cannot return home without the soap. I will be punished for losing a new bar.”

Sephiroth clicked his tongue in irritation, noticing Cloud’s flinch of shame. He tenderly reached out and messed up the wet blonde spikes that were already standing up like the worst case of bed head.

“I will send you home with some of mine,” Sephiroth said. “Come.”

Cloud sighed a breath of relief and followed the prince into the forest.


	3. The Hunting Lodge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud follows the prince through the woods to the cabin, which turns out to be more of a luxurious hunting lodge. The prince heals him, draws him in a warm bath, and gets him some fresh clothes.
> 
> Sephiroth is fairly certain now that his feelings for the blonde boy are romantic, but he doesn’t press them. He does, however, take time for a serious conversation with Cloud about his future.
> 
> This chapter is pretty fluffy (well, maybe angsty/awkward fluff)—more comfort. For my regular readers, this should be alarming. But I need to give Cloud a bit of comfort before his next trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow updates. I’ve been struggling with a migraine and utter exhaustion from it for the past four days. Hope you all are staying well and safe!

The prince was better than his word. The cabin was more a luxurious hunting lodge than the cabin Cloud has expected. That the large place stood uninhabited and clean was somewhat of a mystery. Cloud had never seen it before.

“Do you stay here often?” He asked, unable to keep his curiosity in check. He grew up in the area and thought he knew all the secret places in the woods.

“It’s a nice place when I want to get out of the palace,” the prince explained. “It’s quiet here and I don’t have to deal with any stress.”

Sephiroth showed Cloud to the bath, drawing hot water from the faucet. There was a large claw-foot tub, surrounded by candles, which the prince lit. He poured some oil and herbs into the water as well, gathering up an armful of soap, scrubs, and shampoo to leave beside the tub on a small table. It was slightly strange to watch the prince do such a mundane, domestic task. Cloud couldn't help that he'd forgotten that even royalty has to bathe.

“Before you get in and relax, may I cure you?” The prince asked.

“Is that what you did before? After the, um, town square?” Cloud looked down, blushing at having reminded the prince of the first time they’d met. He was still ashamed that he’d been publicly punished—everyone in the town had seen his shame and even still, many of his peers would remind him of it regularly, asking when they might witness it again.

“Yes. You’re favoring your right hand. Is it injured?”

Obediently, Cloud lifted his hand to the prince, two of his fingers black and blue and swollen. The prince swore softly under his breath.

“He broke your fingers?” The smooth voice stayed low and even, but Cloud sensed anger beneath the tone.

“It was an accident,” Cloud said, feeling stupid for defending the mayor the minute the words escaped his lips. Sephiroth briefly touched the boy’s chin, sending a rush of heat into him.

“Adults don’t break the bones of their loved ones. Not accidentally nor on purpose,” Sephiroth said.

Cloud glanced down, embarrassed.

“I am not sure I _am_ a loved one,” Cloud admitted. “He hasn’t, um, liked me since my mother passed away.”

Sephiroth sighed. Even the soft sound from his mouth was ridiculously attractive to Cloud, who still couldn’t quite believe he was here—standing in the prince’s presence, in his home away from home, about to get into the bathtub which, surely, had at one time also held the prince. _Naked_. Even the prince would be naked while taking a bath. Quickly pushing the thought away, Cloud tried only to think about how embarrassing it was to be caught disobeying his stepfather again. What must the prince think of him?

“Did he break it while he was punishing you? Perhaps you tried to defend yourself and he didn’t pull the blow?”

Cloud swallowed. How would the prince know anything like that? Surely, someone so beautiful and strong had never been a disobedient child!

“Um, yes. I am very sorry for having displeased him.”

“I don’t think you did anything wrong, Cloud.”

Taking Cloud’s hand in his, gently so not to jostle the fingers, Sephiroth cast a spell. Cloud hadn’t seen it before, but there was a pretty green light that shimmered around his hand. The warmth flowed in, knitting his bones back together and reducing the swelling and bruising to nothing.

“Oh,” Cloud gasped, unaware that his utterance of relief sent a flash of desire through the prince. “It’s so pretty. Like your eyes.” Suddenly shy of being so forward—to _royalty_ —while dressed in nothing but the prince’s coat, the blonde dropped his gaze to his feet in embarrassment. When nothing was said, he dared to peek up, finding the prince’s usually stoic face in a soft smile.

“Many people don’t like my eyes. I’ve been told they are creepy.”

Cloud shook his head—not just to please the prince and lavish him with praise (which he longed to do), but also because he sincerely meant it.

“I like them. I think they are _beautiful_. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them since, um...” He let his voice trail off and glanced away.

“It’s okay,” Sephiroth said, his mouth close to Cloud’s ear. “I’ve been thinking of you since then, too.” After a brief pause, during which Cloud allowed the pleasure of the prince’s words to flow through him, Sephiroth continued, “May I cure the rest of your injuries?”

Cloud nodded quickly, turning toward the tub to hide the warm swelling in his groin. He tried to slip his arms out of the leather coat and was helped. He felt a soft touch barely ghosting over his back, buttocks, and thighs, just before the same tingling warmth flowed through his skin. Unable to help himself, Cloud let out a soft sigh of relief that sounded more sexually charged than he either intended or was aware.

The prince noticed, however, watching with satisfaction as the blonde’s bruises disappeared and the welts went down, leaving the pale, creamy skin gorgeously smooth. And round. _Gods_. He’d never seen a butt so perky, the prince thought. What right did this boy have to have such a gorgeous ass? Still, Sephiroth worried about pushing his desire onto the younger boy.

“All done. Does it feel better?”

Cloud nodded, turning to face the prince with reddened cheeks and blushing ears. He was adorable, even cuter than Sephiroth had remembered. The prince smiled at him, watching the bright blue eyes come to life and twinkle in response—shimmering slightly with a touch of tears. Had Sephiroth made Cloud uncomfortable? It hadn’t been his intention.

“Are you all right? I’m sorry, did I upset you?”

“No, no,” Cloud insisted, quickly averting his eyes. But then he looked back. His eyes were framed with long lashes, slightly darker than the rest of his hair. “Just, um, thank you. I know you’re busy and you don’t have time to do this for me, but I really appreciate your help.” In truth, not many had been kind to Cloud since his mother's passing, taking the mayor's word that he had to be dealt with as a rebellious teenager.

“It’s my pleasure.” Sephiroth nodded and added some oil and scented bath salt into the water. The scent was softly floral, mixed with citrus and peppermint. “I’ll see if I can salvage your clothes or find something else for you to wear. You relax and enjoy.”

He left Cloud alone to climb into the tub—as much as he’d rather stay and watch the boy bathe. He was _utterly_ captivating, Sephiroth thought. Why would anyone ever want to hurt him?

Unable to ignore the rage building in his chest when thinking of how submissive and sweet the young blonde was, Sephiroth distracted himself by rifling through one of the closets in his usual bedroom. He found several items that were a few sizes too small—a uniform, of sorts, one that a fellow soldier might wear. He was surprised to find it here, and he wondered if the caretaker had purposefully left it behind. It was known that the prince didn’t take serious lovers. He’d had a few nights of pleasure, of course—it was appropriate for his age and stress relief. As a commander of the military, he would sometimes find himself in brothels with his men. Or on an extended tour in which his men also needed to relieve some stress. But the staff at the palace (and probably at the lodge) and his people wished Sephiroth would settle down with a permanent partner.

For his part, the prince wasn’t interested in a political marriage. He’d already turned down several offers from surrounding countries, to his father’s annoyance. As royalty, he had more say in his marriage than his peers, he supposed. But he was fairly certain he’d finally found someone who piqued his interest.

Cloud was lovely—and he’d only grown more lovely in the past year. Had it been an entire year since the prince had spied him in the town square and saved him from that brutality? The prince had hoped he was faring better, but he wasn’t surprised to find Cloud was even more harshly treated now.

“I should have interfered then,” he thought. Well. No matter. He would interfere now and get the boy the education he deserved. Perhaps he could take the boy into his service. Did he have any desire to serve in the military? Perhaps he might take him on as a student to be mentored.

Settled on the idea, now he had to think of how to extract the boy from his abusive home. Yes, Sephiroth was interested in the boy romantically, but he was still so young. Sephiroth himself wasn’t much older, but the difference between nineteen and fifteen was more than a leap. He would keep his romantic inclinations to himself and let the blonde discover his preferences on his own. Although he’d been sure he’d noticed arousal after the gentle cure. Still, he couldn’t get his hopes up. Even if Cloud didn’t wish to serve him or join the military, it was clear the boy deserved an education and a kind, safe environment in which to grow up.

The thought brought a bitter chuckle to the prince. Kind, safe environments were _not_ his own experience. Perhaps he was the _last_ person who ought to look out for the kid. He had so little experience with kindness. Wracking his brain for solutions as he pulled clothes out of the wardrobe, he thought of one of his subordinates. He was young, about seventeen, but rising rapidly in the ranks because of his skill and natural talent—and currently being mentored by a close friend of the prince, Commander Angeal Hewley. The young man was a brunette with unruly hair and a smile that never left his face. Zack? Yes. Zackary Fair, Angeal’s puppy, would be the perfect person to look out for Cloud as his official mentor. At least till he came of age, anyway.

After Cloud had soaked in the bath for nearly 45 minutes, it occurred to Sephiroth that he might have fallen asleep. He knew from experience that harsh beatings were exhausting. Leaving the tea to steep in the pot at the table, the prince hurried upstairs, bringing the fresh clothes with him. Worried and ashamed for leaving the boy alone for so long, he berated himself, telling himself he’d be the _worst_ choice for the boy’s caretaker. It didn’t stop his desire to protect the pretty blonde from harm, however.

“Cloud?” The prince knocked on the door. “Cloud, may I come in?”

There was a soft slosh of water and Cloud answered in his soft, gentle voice, “Um, sure.”

Sephiroth pushed the door open and was relieved to see Cloud, safe and warm and relaxed. Completely unharmed. Of course. He’d only been enjoying the bath.

“Is everything all right?” Cloud asked nervously. He looked wary as if he was afraid he was overstaying his welcome.

“I brought you some clothes. Your other clothes need to be laundered. You must be tired. Come, get dressed and have some tea.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cloud said, looking with amazement at the clothes. “Is it really okay?”

“Is what okay? And you don’t have to call me sir.”

“But you’re the prince,” Cloud said softly, trying but unable to pull his eyes away from the silver hair. “I mean, are you sure it’s all right for me to wear your clothes?”

“Of course. They are mine from some years earlier. They may be a bit large on you.” Sephiroth snapped his mouth shut abruptly, concerned that he might add something inappropriate about Cloud’s lovely, petite shape. “Um, just come downstairs once you’re dressed.”

“Thank you, si-, um, Sephiroth.”

When the door closed behind the prince, Cloud stretched and climbed out of the tub. Truthfully, he lost track of time while soaking in the wonderful water. He’d been tempted to touch himself but restrained his urges. The water smelled so much like the prince’s hair, that soft mix of floral, vanilla, and something so uniquely royal. But Cloud was devastated the last time he’d done this in the bath. He didn’t want to be crude or offensive. He already worried about the horrible impression he must have made. Why was the prince so kind to him? He was nothing but a disobedient, bratty servant.

The clothes felt wonderful against Cloud’s skin. Knowing that the prince himself had worn them was distracting enough so Cloud had to concentrate on something else. The weave of the fabric was so fine—and the colors rich black and silver. They felt nice. They even smelled like the prince. Looking in the mirror, Cloud thought they suited him, too. He fluffed up his hair with a sigh of hopeless irritation and then went downstairs.

He found Sephiroth waiting on a couch, with a tray laid out with pastries and tea on a coffee table in front of him. He looked up while Cloud was still descending the stairs, watching the blonde move. He walked with natural grace, the prince decided. Now he’d see about trying to talk Cloud out of his current situation.

“Sit,” he said, patting the place beside him. He leaned up to pour the tea, and Cloud was flustered in an instant.

“No, sir, let me,” he tried to insist, feeling a fresh blush warming his face. A prince shouldn't be serving someone like him tea!

“I don’t mind,” Sephiroth said. “You sit and relax. You must be exhausted.”

At that, the blonde unsuccessfully tried to smother a yawn. It was adorable, really—not childlike, exactly, but incredibly honest. As if his pure heart, his innocence, would not permit his body to lie. The thought of that—Cloud’s honest, pure body—sent lust crashing through the prince that he’d never before experienced. It was strong enough to raise his heart rate, making it thump loudly in his ears.

“Um, Sephiroth...” Cloud said, softly, looking up at the prince.

“Yes?”

“The tea? The cup is going to overflow.”

Never having been in a flustering situation himself, the prince roughly jerked his wrist, tilting the teapot to stop the liquid from overflowing onto the table. He couldn’t help smiling, wondering if the blonde's awkward shyness might be contagious. It was a strange, pleasant sensation, one which he enjoyed, and it warmed his cheeks slightly. He’d heard from his closest friends that love could feel like this—that his body would let him know when he’d found the perfect partner. Still, it felt a little ridiculous.

“What do you want to do with your future, Cloud?” Sephiroth asked, pushing the cup and saucer toward Cloud.

“My future?” Cloud echoed. He glanced up and the prince nodded.

“Help yourself to cream, sugar, honey, and pastries,” Sephiroth said, gesturing at the table. “Yes. Where do you see yourself five years from now?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know. For now, I’m just taking care of my family.”

“I see.” Sephiroth wasn’t sure what to say. “I couldn’t help noticing how elegantly you move.”

“What?” Cloud asked, surprised.

“Yes. You move like a fish in water—like a dancer. Have you sparred before?”

“Oh, yes!” Cloud was excited by the conversation. “Tifa and I used to spar all the time—until... um. Until...”

“Until what, Cloud?”

“Father said it was unbecoming of a lady,” Cloud admitted.

“So he forbade it?”

“Yes.”

When Cloud didn’t offer any further detail, Sephiroth pushed his question through.

“And he punished you? For sparring?”

“Well, um...”

“Tell me what happened, Cloud. I know you wouldn’t go against him if he told you to stop. What did he do?”

“He caned me. In front of Tifa. To discourage her and teach her a lesson.”

The prince did his best to suppress the shudder of rage that coursed down his spine.

“I see.” He _did_ see. Very clearly. This boy was being abused, used, taken advantage of. Changing the subject, Sephiroth asked another question. "Why were you in the river this afternoon? It's a bit early in the season still to enjoy the river, isn't it?"

"Oh, I was bathing. I needed to take care of my, um, injuries and clean them off to prevent infection."

"And you couldn't use the warm water at home because?"

Cloud wasn't sure how to answer that.

"I'm not allowed," he said simply, looking away and hoping that Sephiroth wouldn't notice. The prince did notice, but he didn't press the boy.

"Cloud, I'm not sure you know this, but in this kingdom, we consider running, hot water to be a human right. Equal to a child's education and the right to have food and affordable housing."

"I know, sir." He did know. He remembered from his lessons. But Cloud still didn't think he could go against his stepfather.

“You know, Cloud, if you wanted, you could join the military. Serve by my side.”

“What? No, I’m sure I’m not strong enough—”

“We teach skills and techniques. The military will strengthen you. And if you don’t want to fight, I could find a place for you at the palace. By my side.”

“But... why would you want... _me_?” The blonde’s face fell, looking down into the teacup.

“Why _wouldn’t_ I want you?” Sephiroth’s heart felt full to bursting as though it might break. “Cloud. Look at me.”

Cloud obeyed—instantly—and even just those gorgeous, sky-blue eyes meeting his determinedly was enough to send a fresh burst of arousal through the prince. What other commands might the boy obey?

“Cloud. You are worth more than you have been led to believe. You are strong, smart, graceful, and absolutely adorable.”

The blonde’s blue eyes widened and blinked. Once. Twice. He swallowed roughly.

“That is, um, really nice to hear. Especially from you. When you’ve only ever seen me in the aftermath of disobedience—”

“ _Cloud_.”

The boy snapped his mouth shut.

“I’m not saying this to flatter you. I’m trying to convince you that your dreams, what you want, it matters. It matters to _me_. And if it matters to me, it should matter to you, too.”

“Oh.”

“Your family is taking advantage of you. If it’s all right, I’d like to stop by your home to speak to your stepfather. I’d like him to permit me to take you into my care.” Sephiroth was careful to keep his tone neutral, commanding, and strong.

“But who will take care of them? If I’m not there—”

“The mayor is a wealthy man. He can hire help if he needs it. He should be paying you, not forcing you to work like a slave.”

Cloud bit his lower lip and looked down, his long lashes sweeping the top of his cheeks. The prince had a strange urge to prevent the abuse of the plush lower lip, and he didn’t deny himself. He reached out his thumb, pressing down gently on the lower lip, shocking the boy out of his nervous habit.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you further,” Cloud said, his voice soft.

“It’s no trouble,” Sephiroth replied. “I _want_ to help you. I want... _you_.” A jolt of electricity shot down his spine at the casual admission. All at once, he wished he could take it back. Wasn’t it too much pressure? Cloud was so young. “I mean—”

Cloud was stunned by the prince’s admission. An echoing shock of desire flooded his body, melting together with hope. Could it be? No—it couldn’t. But even attracting this much attention from the prince was more than enough. He couldn’t speak.

“I mean—I could help you finish your education. It’s the law of the kingdom. We could put you to work—in the palace or the military—for pay.”

“Why would you do that for me, sir?”

Tsking at the use of the title, Sephiroth waved his hand.

“It’s my time to spend as I please, yes? I’m the prince, after all.” His tone was slightly arrogant. But if anyone had the right to such a tone, it was the prince, after all.

“Of course.”

“You won’t owe me anything in return. It’s my duty to take care of my constituents.”

“Thank you,” Cloud said, sincerely. “I’d like that more than I can say.”

“I’m glad. Let’s get you back home. I’ll speak to the mayor myself.”

Cloud’s face brightened, but his flushed cheeks didn’t fade. He was gorgeous when he smiled. The prince nearly sat on his hands to prevent himself from touching him—and he didn’t resist combing his fingers through silky soft golden tresses. How did the boy get his hair to stand up like that all on its own?


	4. The Confrontation with the Mayor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Sephiroth walks Cloud home, intending to speak to the mayor about his plans for Cloud. The discussion doesn't go quite as well as Cloud hopes, and Cloud suffers the mayor's wrath when the prince leaves.
> 
> TW: Child abuse and molestation, punishment.
> 
> Really, though. This is rated E for a reason.

The prince walked Cloud back to his home. Night has fallen and the blonde was exhausted, weaving and wobbling enough so Sephiroth gently took his arm to steady him. Cloud appreciated the help—and also the closeness. The prince always asked before touching him—sometimes silently, with a gentle approach that slowly invaded his personal space and waited for an acknowledgment. It felt strangely safe. And Cloud’s heart felt lighter and more hopeful than he’d ever imagined. Maybe he would be able to make something of his life. Perhaps the prince would help him. And the feel of the powerful arm around him—gods—he’d be fantasizing about that for some time.

The very idea of spending his life in the palace with the prince (and serving at his side) was overwhelming. Like a dream, but really overwhelming. Cloud was strong for his size, but he was quite small and still growing. He was well aware he would make a good soldier, only if for the fact that he admired the prince so much. He was willing to follow him anywhere. And here they were now—standing at the door of the Cloud’s family home.

Cloud walked in the front door, leading the way for the prince. Over the past year or so, his stepfather forbade him to use the front entrance, directing him to the servants’ around back that entered into the kitchen. The idea that he might be able to earn a place in this family—that he might make Tifa and the mayor proud—felt so far away just hours before but now, almost within his grasp. He was excited.

“Boy! Where have you been?!” The mayor snapped, looking up from a cup of tea as he read the evening paper. When the mayor saw who Cloud had at his side, he splashed the tea into the saucer as he quickly stood up. “Your Highness! What a pleasure!” Turning toward the stairs, the mayor called out, “Tifa! We have a royal visitor!”

The prince was slightly annoyed at the mayor’s groveling. He didn’t miss how the harsh tone he used with Cloud switched to obsequiousness. The mayor went out of his way to place his daughter within the prince’s sight every time they met, just like so many others in the kingdom. Tifa was an attractive young woman with a kind smile, but that wasn’t what Sephiroth was looking for.

“What took you so long, Cloud? There are still chores to be done.” Now, the mayor simply sounded disappointed, but he held back the harsh tone he’d used earlier. Still, the prince watched Cloud’s face fall in regret. He really was eager to please—even his abusive stepfather.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Cloud replied, lowering his gaze. Then he looked up when he felt the prince’s hand resting on his lower back.

“Mayor, I apologize for interrupting your evening, but I have a favor to ask,” Sephiroth started.

“Of course! Name it and it will be yours!”

“I’d like to offer your stepson employment,” he said bluntly. “The palace will house him and keep him as a soldier cadet. He has what it takes to make a good officer and he moves like a fighter. We will take over the rest of his education.”

The mayor froze for a moment.

“Sire? My stepson? Do you mean Cloud?”

“Do you have another stepson?”

“Oh no, it’s just—well, Cloud has always been a, um, special boy.”

Sephiroth glanced at the blonde, who had his eyes lowered to the floor. Obviously, this was not intended as a compliment.

“Go on, child. Finish your work and let me speak to the prince in private,” the mayor ordered. The change in tone—from obsequious to commanding in the same breath—astounded the prince. It annoyed him in a way that raised his hackles, making him feel overly protective of the blonde.

“Yes, sir—” But before Cloud could turn away, Sephiroth grabbed his arm.

“Stay here, Cloud. This concerns you and your future, too. You ought to have a say.” The prince cleared his throat and took a seat, dragging the younger boy down to the couch next to him. The blonde was clearly worried about the casual touching in front of his father, he was sure, but Sephiroth ignored his discomfort for now. He wanted to keep the boy safely at his side. Then he addressed the mayor. “I know that Cloud serves your family to the best of the ability. But you’re the mayor. You have resources most other families do not. You should have the funds to hire a servant and allow Cloud to see to his education and future.”

“Well, we do, of course, but it’s important for young men to be kept busy and out of trouble. As you’re well aware, we have consistent behavior problems with this one. You witnessed it yourself—at the town center and today.”

Cloud drooped like a wilting flower next to the prince. He was ashamed to hear his own family describe him this way.

“That is not true. However, I am aware of how harshly he is treated, sir,” Sephiroth replied, his tone clipped. “This afternoon, I came across Cloud while he was bathing his wounds in the river. You broke his fingers, sir.”

“What? Is that what he told you? I would never! That was his own carelessness!” The mayor spluttered.

“I know how it happened. I’ve seen it before. And for what violation did he deserve both the cane and the paddle?”

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but I can’t imagine you intend to interfere in how the mayor raises his children?”

“Father...” Tifa had made her way down the stairs, dressed in evening wear for dinner. She wanted to interrupt him. As much as she appreciated Cloud’s company, this opportunity would be perfect for him. She knew he needed to get away from here before her father did something to him he could not take back.

“Honestly, Your Highness, I miss Cloud’s mother so much. He is all I have left of her. He looks so like her—and when he puts his mind to it, he is competent like she was.”

“Did Cloud’s mother do all the chores and all the cooking and shopping?” Sephiroth inquired.

“Oh, no, she was a true lady! But she did manage the household and the servants who did those chores.”

“What happened to them?”

“Oh, well. There was no need for them once Cloud took over. We must keep him busy or he will get into all kinds of trouble.”

Cloud was still dejected, looking at the floor. He troubled his lower lip, biting it softly to prevent himself from saying anything disrespectful. Or from defending himself, Sephiroth saw. His self-esteem was abysmal.

“He’s a young man, Mayor Lockhart. Surely, you agree that he has a right to decide his future. As the mayor’s son, surely he should have prospects greater than being a servant for the rest of his life?”

“O-of course, sire,” the mayor replied. “Have a seat, darling,” he suggested to Tifa, hoping she’d place herself on Sephiroth’s other side. She didn’t. Instead, she sat in the empty chair next to Cloud.

“Father,” Tifa started again, “don’t you think this would be an excellent opportunity for Cloud? I think it would be a good fit and he’d do us proud. I mean, of course, I’d miss him, but I’m more than happy to help out around the house—”

“Tifa, it is not your place to offer your opinion here!” The mayor snapped. He glared at her, making her shrink back in the chair and straighten her back, resting her clasped hands in her lap.

“When does Cloud see to his education?” Sephiroth asked.

“Oh, he reads when he has the time to spare.”

“Are you aware that it’s the law that in this country, all children receive mandatory education—and that their parents provide it—through the age of sixteen?”

“He will be sixteen this year,” the mayor said. “He did well in his studies before—surely, that was enough. And he wanted to help out the family. He didn’t indicate he was being forced to serve us, did he? He tends to overreact and exaggerate.” He narrowed his eyes at Cloud, who was curling up and shrinking next to the prince.

The prince noticed, and he reached out to Cloud’s arm, soothing him with a gentle touch. Even the small physical gesture was enough to relax the boy. He was so sensitive, Sephiroth thought, before quickly pushing the observation from his mind.

“What do you want to do, Cloud? Would you like to stay here—as your family’s servant—or would you like to serve alongside me at the palace?”

“At your side, Your Highness,” Cloud replied, instantly. “Of course, I would miss my family very much—”

“You could come back to visit, of course,” Sephiroth soothed him. Then he looked up at the mayor. “It’s decided, then. I will send one of my commanders over tomorrow afternoon to collect him for duty.”

The prince rose to his feet, and everyone else in the room stood up to bow their heads in respect. Sephiroth brushed Cloud’s chin gently and then addressed the mayor again.

“I’m sure this goes without saying, but I will find out if you lay your hands on the boy tonight. I won’t be pleased if you injure my newest recruit.”

“N-no, sir—of c-course not, sir,” the mayor stammered.

“Walk me to the door, Cloud?” The prince asked softly.

Cloud nodded eagerly and walked the prince back through the hallway to the entry and the front door. When on the doorstep, Sephiroth turned to face the young man once more. He carefully and gently ran his fingers through the soft, silky blonde hair. Cloud couldn’t help it—he pushed back against the hand, wanting more, like an affectionate kitten. Really, he was too cute for his own good, Sephiroth thought.

“I’ll send Zack, one of my newest commanders to fetch you tomorrow after lunch. Pack anything you’d like to bring, but we provide uniforms and linen for you. You’ll receive a wage right away—and the position includes room and board.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cloud said gratefully. “M-may I send my salary back to help my family?”

“Of course, if you wish, but your stepfather is the mayor. He makes good money for that position as well as the proceeds from the estate.”

Cloud nodded.

“I just want to be useful, sir,” he murmured.

“You already are. And call me Sephiroth,” the prince reminded.

“Thank you, Sephiroth.”

The blonde offered up a lovely smile that warmed the prince’s heart. Today, Sephiroth’s royal status improved the life of one of his citizens. And such a cute one, at that. Days like these made Sephiroth’s history seem worthwhile. Still—the prince kicked himself for his small slip-up about directly wanting Cloud. It was true—he did want Cloud. He just wasn’t sure if he should have been so forward about it.

Perhaps he shouldn’t, but Sephiroth couldn’t help leaning forward, sliding his hand down the soft hair to the side of the blonde’s neck. Those lips were so plush and begging to be kissed. Leaning in ever so slowly, giving Cloud a chance to pull away (which he didn’t take), the prince pressed his lips chastely to Cloud’s, then dropped a final kiss on his lightly freckled nose. Cloud blinked cutely in surprise, but leaned into the touch just the same, humming softly.

“Good night, Cloud. I’ll see you at the palace tomorrow evening.” He let Cloud’s hair skate through his fingers one last time.

“Good night, Sephiroth. And thank you.”

Cloud stood in the doorway to watch the prince leave, mesmerized by the way the heavy curtain of hair swung behind him—rather enticingly showing off the prince’s muscular ass. If he didn’t clamp down on his fantasies, he’d need to take care of himself in the privacy of his own room.

Sighing softly—his heart filled with hope—Cloud closed and locked the front door, moving to bring his supplies (his clothes, the soap, the towel) upstairs. Before he could get to the staircase, however, a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Wait for me in your room, Cloud,” the mayor said, his jaws tight and teeth clenched.

Cloud nodded and offered a nervous, “yes, sir,” before hurrying up the two flights of stairs to his attic room. Was his stepfather angry? Annoyed with him? Cloud quickly wracked his brain, trying to think of a good reason he should be employed at the palace and how to convince his father that this was for the best. The money? Perhaps he could offer to send the entirety of his paycheck home? If room and board were included, Cloud couldn’t imagine he’d need much, if any, of a salary.

Cloud left the soap in the bathroom, enjoying the fancy floral scent. It was so luxurious and wonderful. He was sure Tifa would love it. Then, he returned to his bedroom and discarded the towel and clothes in the laundry. Would he have time to finish the laundry tomorrow, he wondered, or would he already be at the palace for training and to start his new life? He couldn’t help the nervous excitement, and it battled fiercely with fear of what his father had in mind for him.

Cloud waited silently on his bed, dreading the impending exchange with his stepfather but confident that he’d understand as soon as he saw how much it would benefit of the family. Money and prestige were two things the mayor valued above all else. When the door opened, Cloud launched right in.

“Sir, I will earn a salary as a serviceman—and room and board are included—and I could send the entirety of my paycheck home to you. I will have access to the prince and his advisors and I’d be happy to put in a good word for you whenever you need, and—”

“Shut your mouth, boy,” the mayor snapped. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared down at Cloud, looking at him from the top of his head to his toes. “The palace is no place for you. Not for bastards without any pedigree.”

“Excuse me, sir?” Cloud was astounded.

“Your mother never told me who your father was. I took pity on her—when Tifa’s mother passed, I was left alone with a daughter I couldn’t care for alone. It was the perfect opportunity. But you ought to know you will never hold the same position in society as my daughter. There is no place at the palace for bastards.”

Cloud didn’t know what to say. It wounded him—of course, the mayor spoke the truth about Cloud’s father. And before her marriage to the mayor, Cloud’s mother had been the talk of the town as an unwed mother—especially when Cloud was so unusually fair-skinned and blonde. He didn’t have to speak, however, when his stepfather continued.

“What did you have to do to earn those clothes?”

Cloud jerked his chin, looking directly at the mayor. He was confused. He didn’t understand the question.

“What? I don’t understand—I’m sorry, sir—I didn’t—”

The mayor interrupted Cloud by grabbing his chin and pointing it up to meet his gaze.

“You don’t get something for nothing in this world, Cloud. I know this as well as anyone. And you have nothing the prince could want—not as a solider or palace assistant—save _one_ single thing.”

“Sir? He was just being kind—”

“The prince is not kind. He’s using you. Do you really believe you’ll go to the palace to be a soldier? He’s probably interested in you—but to use you in the bedroom until he gets bored. Then you’ll be thrown out with all the rest of the trash. He could never associate himself with you openly. Your rank and status are nowhere the match he requires.”

Cloud was stunned at the words. Yes, he certainly was attracted to the prince—romantically and sexually—but he knew the prince’s reputation for cruelty was unearned and unjust. How could his father say things like this so casually?

“I’m sorry, sir, but I disagree. The prince never said—”

“You’re a child, boy. You know nothing of how the world works. It’s possible he did something to you that you didn’t understand. Did he touch you?”

“Well, he healed me, sir—”

“Did you touch him?”

“N-no, sir—”

“I see. I will have to check for myself. Strip.”

“I’m sorry?” Cloud asked, shocked. He’d heard the prince’s not-so-veiled threat about what would happen if Cloud was beaten again before tomorrow. He didn’t understand what the mayor wanted, why he’d risk upsetting the prince.

“You heard me. I need to assess the damage, boy.”

“There’s no—”

The hand on his chin tightened painfully.

“Don’t argue. You should know by now you’ll only make it worse. Strip.”

“Yes, sir,” Cloud bit out miserably. He didn’t want to take off the prince’s clothes. They smelled like him—they felt nice on his skin. But he knew better than to disobey his stepfather, and he did as he was asked. Ashamed to be naked in front of his father, he curled up tightly on the bed, pulling his knees to his chest.

“Stand up and turn around,” the mayor ordered.

Of course, the blonde obeyed. Cloud stood up and turned around to face his bed, showing his backside to the mayor.

“He really healed you? Again?!” The mayor asked, seething when he looked at Cloud’s flawless skin. He grabbed Cloud’s right hand and looked at his fingers. “Damn it. How the hell are you supposed to learn your lesson if the consequences don’t stick to you for more than an hour?”

“Sir—I’m so sorry, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Bend over.”

He didn’t wait for Cloud to comply, pushing harshly between his shoulder blades, bending him over the mattress. He was muttering under his breath—about where he could have gotten his slutty tendencies, as to how he might protect his precious daughter from him. Cloud shrank at the word “slut.” He knew what it meant but he didn’t understand how such a word applied to him.

“I know you find the prince attractive. The entire country thinks so. The entire town saw how you physically responded to him at the town center. It was _not_ normal. You should be ashamed of yourself, showing your inclinations so brazenly to a man so far above you. He will _never_ want you, Cloud. He will discard you as soon as he’s had his fill.”

To Cloud’s horror, his stepfather was caressing the now smooth skin of his ass and thighs, looking for evidence of his punishment. Then, a finger slipped between Cloud’s cheeks and he clamped his legs together quickly, trying to prevent the intrusive touch. At this rate, Cloud would prefer the whip or paddle—anything but this invasive false tenderness.

“Please—sir! Please!” He could only beg for mercy—but no one had ever touched him there. He knew very well what his father was looking for—Cloud wasn’t that clueless—and he also knew he wouldn’t find it. “He didn’t—he would never—sir—he didn’t touch me!”

“He kissed you on the doorstep, boy. I’m no fool.” Without any other warning, the mayor shoved a finger inside of Cloud, who squirmed with pain and discomfort. He’d never even touched himself like this—though he knew very well this was one way males could have intercourse.

“Please don’t—have mercy—please, sir!”

“Save your tears, boy. You ought to know better.” Despite the mayor’s disdainful tone, he didn’t find the evidence he was looking for. The boy would be redder, very sore, and there would be some trace evidence. “So, maybe he didn’t take you this way. Did you service him with your mouth?”

“Excuse me? Sir?” Cloud blushed hard while held down against the mattress.

“Did you service him orally?”

“No, sir,” Cloud said firmly. “He was simply being kind to me! There were bullies from the village who threw my clothes in the river while I was bathing. He helped me—that was all.”

“And you really believe he wants you in the military? A runt like you? You’re _useless_ —you can’t even perform the household chores to my satisfaction! Why do you think you’d be any good as a soldier?”

Cloud didn’t know how to answer. His chest ached—longing for a smidgeon of tenderness or love or care from a parental figure. Not this! He knew he shouldn’t be touched like this. It was wrong!

“Both the welts and bruises have faded. I’ll have to start your lesson again.”

“Please, sir—you’ve already punished me for those failings and I promised I’d do better!”

“That may be, but the lesson wasn’t on your skin long enough to sink in. You should not have allowed him to cure you.”

“He’s the _prince_! Sir! I could hardly disobey him—”

“You disobey your own father every day, boy! Don’t give me that. Prepare yourself—and grab the pillow. I don’t want your cries making your sister uncomfortable.”

Groaning softly, Cloud obeyed—grabbing his pillow and placing it under his mouth. He tried his best to relax, knowing that whatever was coming would be severe and painful. He cringed when he heard the mayor’s belt slip from his belt loops.

The first painful crack of the belt snapped through the air and hit Cloud’s ass at the fullest part. He clenched his legs and grunted into the pillow, trying his best to stifle his sounds. With the second blow, Cloud couldn’t suppress his gasp of pain, and by the third, he was holding back screams. His skin warmed to the point of burning—he could feel as his father laid down each successive welt, sometimes on unmarred skin, sometimes crossing an existing fresh welt.

Cloud was in tears, screaming miserably into the pillow—and mostly from pain. However, a part of him felt that he was being punished unfairly, especially in light of his new opportunity. And how would he explain his injuries to the prince? If he mentioned them, surely the prince would be angry and want to punish the mayor. He was disobeying a direct order from his sovereign, after all. But Cloud felt pulled in two directions: wanting a new life and to please the prince as well as wanting to protect his family.

The strapping was painful, but not as drawn out as some of the mayor’s other punishments. He tired easily, wearing down after two dozen blows. Cloud didn’t move when the mayor stopped, maintaining his position while trying to calm down and stifle his sobs into the pillow.

“Open your legs,” the mayor ordered.

Frightened and unsure, Cloud struggled to obey, his chest hitching and tears running down his cheeks. He sensed his stepfather’s presence looming behind him, leaning over his vulnerable, naked form, whispering in his ear.

“Give me your hands.”

Cloud released his white-knuckled grip on the pillow and allowed the mayor to guide them alongside his body down to his burning ass. The mayor planted Cloud’s hands on his buttocks.

“Spread your cheeks.”

“ _Please_! Sir!” Cloud begged, frightened out of his mind and reluctant to obey. “He didn’t—n-nothing _happened_!”

“I am well aware, boy, that nothing has happened _yet_. However, when you are in my house, I won’t have you bringing your filth back here.”

“But I didn’t—”

“ _Cloud_!” The mayor shouted. It scared Cloud even more, and he hesitated one last time before obeying, his face and ears burning with shame. He carefully spread his cheeks and put his hole on display. So shameful, he thought—what would the prince think of him if he saw him now?

Without delay, the mayor struck him with the belt, right between his cheeks. Cloud had never been touched there before—aside from bathing—and the pain ripped up his spine and down his legs, pulling an unearthly cry of pain from his chest.

“Keep quiet!” The mayor scolded, strapping him again.

Cloud buried his face in the pillow and released his cheeks, sobbing uncontrollably. “Please—please, father! Please!”

“You’re no son of mine! Spread your cheeks!”

Weeping with shame and pain, Cloud obeyed, leaving himself free for four more hard straps of the belt. Once the mayor was finished, Cloud let go, and his ass felt raw and red. Surely—it was as red as his face. He was still crying softly into the pillow to muffle the sound.

“Get dressed and get to bed. You have a lot to do tomorrow,” the mayor said, giving one last slap to Cloud’s behind before he left.

The mayor once again noticed the boy’s pert bottom—admiring it despite himself, despite that this was the child of his beloved wife’s. He needed to do something about the situation—and fast. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Cloud to serve in the military. He just needed money to find another servant (or two) who could take care of Cloud’s chores. He had an idea—a contact in the large city of Midgar—who would be able to help him out. He’d already sent a messenger to contact him.

As he left the boy crying silently, the mayor wondered again about the prince’s mysterious appearance. The prince wasn’t known as a libertine. His affairs were kept quiet and under wraps, even as the country wished for him to settle down and marry. So the mayor was unsure what his intentions toward Cloud were. However, even if he had honorable intentions, the mayor’s household would be bereft of the care Cloud showed them and would require at least two servants and Tifa’s help to run smoothly. His only option was this Midgar contact. Then at least he’d be able to get a financial benefit out of the boy.

Cloud, in the meantime, gathered himself carefully, dressing his sore body in his pajamas. Once in bed, however, he couldn’t settle. He worried terribly about how the prince would react when he found out he’d been beaten again. What could he say? Could he temper the prince’s anger? Or would the prince finally let him go, believing that he was as rebellious as the mayor said he was?

And who was this colleague—Zack—who would come for him tomorrow? Would he be kind? What would his new life be like? And would his family be all right? Was it all right for Cloud to look out for his own future rather than put his family’s needs ahead of his own?

With the thoughts shuffling in his mind, Cloud’s eyes rested on the neatly folded stack of clothes. The royal colors, he thought. Instinctively, he reached out for the shirt and pulled it toward his face. The blonde’s entire body relaxed at the soft scent—vanilla, fresh spring flowers, and something uniquely Sephiroth—and he relished in the feeling. He also brought a finger to his lips, remembering the soft touch of the prince’s gentle kiss on the doorstep.

Cloud was utterly smitten. As long as he remembered the heated green gaze, the soft smile, that silky low voice, and the gentle but powerful grip on his arm to steady him, he could relax. He could even smile. He looked forward to his new life despite his worries. He drifted off to sleep concentrating on the smell wafting from the prince’s shirt, ignoring the hot pain from his backside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I am so flattered this fic has gotten so much positive feedback! Thank you so much--it's becoming one of my favorites to update (but I plan to finish the others, too). I had no idea how fun it was to update a fic that people are reading and enjoying, so thank you!
> 
> Also--I do have a happy ending planned, but as you probably have guessed, Cloud will get whumped pretty hard before we get there. But don't feel bad if you can't stand this level of... character abuse. I write to manage chronic pain, and the more violent and whump-y a fic is, the better the catharsis.


	5. Cloud’s Disappearance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, people, go play the lottery! Happy weekend with a second update.
> 
> In this chapter, Cloud wakes up the next morning excited about his new life. When his family treats him kindly, he feels relieved at leaving his old family, thinking they perhaps are the family he’s hoped they were. However, things make a turn for the worse, and when the commander arrives to fetch the new cadet, he’s nowhere to be found.
> 
> TW:  
> References to past child abuse and harassment. I’ll just repeat my warning that this is a dark fairytale.

The next morning, Cloud woke just before dawn. He pulled the flat box of newspaper clippings from underneath his mattress and carefully paged through the articles and illustrations, paying attention to the details. The artists had each captured a different aspect of the prince’s ethereal beauty, but none of the drawings brought out the incredible kind heart Cloud had glimpsed. The photograph was a better likeness, but Cloud could tell the prince was stiff and uncomfortable, perhaps annoyed, by the downward slope of his lips and clenched jaw.

Sephiroth was a media darling—perhaps even because of his cool demeanor. He had an air of mystery about him, leaving the press and gossip columnists to speculate about his tastes in lovers. Articles reported affairs with women and men alike, most deciding to keep silent about their secret rendezvouses. The lovers who spoke out asked for anonymity, and all of them had said their meetings were a single night designed to relieve stress. Yet, all expressed disappointment that it was only a single night. There was copious praise about the prince’s desire and enthusiasm in finding his partners’ pleasure. It was highly unusual and very welcome, an anonymous sex-worker claimed.

Cloud had noticed before that the articles mentioned Sephiroth had both male and female lovers. It filled him with a mixture of hope and desire—more when he remembered the soft kiss at the prince’s departure last night. When he touched his lips with a finger, the memory was almost enough to distract him from the raw skin of his behind, but not quite. While last night was not as severe a beating as previous encounters with the mayor, Cloud winced with each step, mortified when he realized the worse of the pain came from between his buttocks from those last six blows.

He couldn’t bring himself to look in the mirror. But he did dress—considering whether it would be unwise to wear the prince’s borrowed garments. They smelled so good, but Cloud didn’t want to sully them while doing his chores. He eventually decided to wear the shirt and the silky pair of underwear, then added a ratty pair of older snug trousers (which he had nearly outgrown), and an apron to cover the fine shirt. He enjoyed the feel of the fabric so much on his skin that he rushed down to begin the morning chores, ignoring the sting of his injuries. Even the underwear helped him feel a little better—almost as if the prince himself were caressing him. The thought drove the young blonde wild.

At breakfast, the mayor watched his dearly departed wife’s child serve them with care and elegance. Yes, the blonde moved well. He seemed to know exactly where his body was at all times and moved with natural grace. Tifa looked downright angry when her father insisted they had all they required and Cloud could eat while they finished. When Cloud took his breakfast in the kitchen—away from the mayor and Tifa—the mayor spoke to his silent daughter.

“Tifa, I know you’re upset that you will miss Cloud—”

“Dad! The way you treat him is not right! It’s not his fault Mama died! And this is his _last_ day with us for such a long time. Why wouldn’t you allow him to share a meal with us?!”

“Calm down, girl, and watch your tone!” The mayor snapped impatiently. “I was going to suggest making Cloud some of that special tea his mother loved so much. To surprise him, you know.”

“What—really?” Tifa could hardly believe it.

“Yes. I’ll do it now.”

The mayor rose and headed to the study. He kept his beloved’s favorite tea service in his office, hidden with her tea, used only for special occasions. He knew her boy loved the flavor, but the mayor hadn’t been willing to share it. He even pulled out Claudia’s favorite cup and saucer for the boy to use. But the mayor had an ulterior motive.

From beneath the secret drawer in his desk, the mayor pulled out a tiny glass bottle. It was a potion laced with magic. Claudia had used this for severe pain during her last days. It was a sedative mixed with a pain reliever. It would take about an hour to work once digested, but the liquid was clear and flavorless. He dropped a few drops of the liquid into Cloud’s cup and smudged it around the lip and inside. Then he hid the bottle in the secret drawer and carried the tea service into the kitchen.

Cloud had finished eating and was washing dishes. He was facing away from the mayor, who glanced down at the boy’s lower half. He’d seen Cloud’s subtle wince and limp this morning—nothing that anyone who didn’t watch Cloud regularly would notice. But the mayor was pleased the boy was still suffering from the consequences of his actions. Besides, he’d surely need to get used to it. The mayor thought he went easy on the boy—saving up his failings for a single day in the week. After the past few days, though, the mayor realized he probably should have punished him several days in a row before now. He appreciated the blonde’s soft-spoken humility and obedience.

“Ah, I’m sorry, sir,” Cloud said, his hand resting on his chest. In truth, the mayor’s presence in the kitchen was rare enough to startle the boy enough to make him jump. He’d splashed a little soapy water unto his cheeks and the tip of his nose in his surprise. “I didn’t see you there.” Wiping his hands on a towel, he solicited gently, “May I help you, sir?”

The blonde’s wide blue eyes rested on the tray in the mayor’s hands. His heart warmed—he hadn’t seen that service since his mother passed!

“Yes, of course, I kept it. Your mother would have wanted us to use it for this special occasion, Cloud,” the mayor said. “Would you boil some water?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Then join us in the drawing-room. I’d like to celebrate the start of your new life.”

“Really?” The joy sparkling in the boy’s face was almost enough to make the mayor reconsider his careful plans. He looked so much like his mother—especially when smiling so widely.

“Bring out the tea when it’s ready.”

“But the dishes—”

“Relax, my boy,” the mayor said, casually fluffing up the blonde’s unruly hair. Certainly, he’d miss the beautiful face and body once he was gone. But the mayor had his priorities. “The dishes can wait, and you must reassure your sister.”

Cloud nodded, quickly filling the kettle with hot water, stunned by the invitation. His heart lifted and he didn’t resent his throbbing backside. Being allowed to leave his family home on a positive note was more than he expected. The mayor had left the teapot behind and carried the tray out of the kitchen. Once the water boiled, Cloud carefully poured the water into the pot and carried it into the drawing-room. He brought out a small plate of shortbread cookies as well.

He discovered both the mayor and Tifa waiting for him, the teacups waiting patiently in front of each person on their beautiful saucers. The service was gorgeous—the cups slightly different in pastel blue and white. He immediately recognized his mother’s favorite waiting for him. Cloud took his usual place, kneeling on the floor, and then poured a cup of tea for Tifa and then the mayor before helping himself. He added a small amount of honey to his tea, watching carefully for any sign of disapproval from the mayor. To his surprise, none came.

“I’d like to toast your successful career in the military,” the mayor said, lifting his cup. “May you do your best and make your family proud.”

“Here, here,” Tifa agreed, carefully clinking the delicate porcelain cup against Cloud’s.

“Thank you so much,” Cloud mumbled, taking a sip of the tea. He struggled to fight back tears. “Would you like shortbread?”

“You know I can’t say no to these!” Tifa said. She felt a mix of relief and sadness for Cloud. She’d miss him _so_ much—he’d always felt like her younger brother and her best friend. But then, Tifa hadn’t been able to protect him from her father’s wrath. She felt she’d failed Cloud, again and again. “I’ll miss you, Cloud. But I’m so happy for you!”

“Thank you, Tifa. I will miss you, too.” Cloud stopped to take another sip of tea. He didn’t take a cookie—as he was often denied these simple treats, even if he was the one baking them.

“Are you nervous?” Tifa asked.

“Sure,” Cloud said. “I’m still growing. I have no idea what will be expected of me. And if the prince meant the _palace_ —well, Midgar is so far away!”

“You’re such a sweetheart, Cloud, I’m sure you’ll make friends in no time!”

 _Friends_ , the mayor thought. _Oh, he’ll make more than friends with that innocent face and adorable little body._

“I will miss you, too, Cloud,” the mayor said, grabbing all of the blonde’s attention. “I have wondered recently if I’ve done enough for you—or if I have been a little harsh, just because you are Claudia’s son.” Cloud’s jaw dropped in surprise. He’d had more than half his tea already. “If I was strict, it was only because I wanted the best for you. You know how boys are, Cloud. It’s better to keep them busy and out of trouble.”

“O-of course, sir.” Cloud had an urge to get up and hug his father for the kind apology, but he didn’t quite dare. “I appreciate your lessons and I want to get better. I will make you proud.”

“Just be sure to obey your commanding officer, Cloudy,” Tifa said. “I’ve heard horror stories about the punishments meted out to recruits!”

“I will be fine,” Cloud said.

“And you can visit anytime!”

“That is only if his schedule permits,” the mayor reminded her. “And if he ends up as one of Prince Sephiroth’s guards, you know he won’t have control over how much he works. You’ll have to be patient, my dear.”

“But you _will_ visit?”

“Of course,” Cloud said, his voice soft. He finished his tea in silence and looked between Tifa and the mayor. “Thank you so much—this is such a huge sacrifice, but I will help as much as I can. Room and board are covered, so I will send you my salary.”

“Cloud, that’s so sweet! I just worry how I’m going to get ready for these balls and dinner without your help!”

“We will hire a lady’s maid,” the mayor said, patting Tifa’s arm. “Don’t you worry.”

Cloud stood to gather the rest of the dishes on the tray. When he leaned down to pick up the mayor’s, the mayor stopped him by resting his hand on Cloud’s forearm.

“I am proud of you, son. I know you will finally make something worthwhile and useful out of yourself.”

Cloud’s expression fell slightly, but he nodded, pursing his lips. At least he no longer felt the need to hug his stepfather. He took the comment in stride.

“Thank you, sir, for everything.”

“All right. I’d best get to work. Cloud, I have an errand for you to run.”

“Of course. Shall I clean up the dishes first?”

“Please, then see me in my office.”

“But Cloud was supposed to escort me over to Lady Elise’s this morning!” Tifa scowled slightly.

“I’ll take you, my dear. This can’t wait.”

Cloud finished the dishes quickly and then met his stepfather in his office. His father was sealing an envelope with wax.

“This is confidential village correspondence. Please bring this to the north gate as soon as possible. A man will meet you there. He knows to look for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Cloud said, bending his head in a brief, respectful bow. “And thank you so much, sir. You’re being very kind about this.”

The mayor waved him off.

“Of course. You deserve it, boy. Now get along quickly so you can come back and pack.”

Cloud smiled and walked out the door, only the pain radiating from his backside to keep him from skipping as he held the letter. He headed to the isolated north gate of the village, unsurprised to find it completely devoid of people. Well, save for the farmer who always tended his fields personally. Cloud gave him a friendly wave which was returned. When he reached the gate, he suddenly felt strangely light-headed. There was nowhere to sit, so he leaned back against the gate until his knees gave out. He slowly slumped down the gate post to the ground, groaning when his head began to swim.

“Oi—are you all right?”

Cloud looked up, seeing double. Before him stood a stranger—one with hair so light it was almost silver. He had a pleasant face and a nice voice, but he also had an accent. He was not a local.

“Oh—um, I’m fine,” Cloud insisted, but he struggled to sit up.

“You’re looking quite unwell,” the man said. “Oh, is this letter for me? Did you come from the mayor?”

Cloud nodded.

“I’m sorry—yes, I did—this must be for you.”

The man opened the letter and quickly stuffed it into his pocket, nodding.

“Thank you. Now, you are in bad shape, kid. Let’s get you home.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Cloud said, but he still couldn’t stand on his own two feet. It felt like the world was slipping away from him, leaking through a small hole into another dimension.

“Nonsense. My name is Leslie. I’m a friend of your dad’s. Let me drive you. We’ll take my carriage.”

Cloud hadn’t ridden in a carriage in so many years—and the luxury (what he could take in, at any rate) was lovely. It had a large interior upholstered in a deep purple velvet, trimmed with mahogany. Cloud barely registered a space for luggage—a cage big enough for a large dog—attached to the outside of the carriage on the back. Leslie knocked on the roof of the compartment as soon as Cloud was settled inside, and the carriage jolted into motion.

More quickly than Cloud realized, his consciousness darkened. At first, he thought he might pass out. But instead, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

“He was right,” Leslie muttered to himself. “He is exactly what the Don is looking for.”

The carriage rocked the blonde in his sleep for some time as they left the mountain village of Nibelheim.

* * *

After Tifa’s morning ride and lunch break with Lady Elise, she was escorted back home by one of the footmen. When she walked in the door, she was surprised not to find Cloud anywhere. She knocked on her father’s office and waited to be admitted.

“Father, where is Cloud?”

“I told you. I sent him on a delivery.” The mayor stopped his ledgers and looked up at the clock. Leslie should have Cloud well outside of the village by now. “Huh. That’s odd. Cloud isn’t back yet?”

“He isn’t. Did you get lunch?”

The mayor waved his hand.

“Oh no, but I’m fine.”

“Okay. Would you ask Cloud to see me when he gets back? I have some new gossip to share!”

“Of course, darling.” Tifa leaned down to kiss her father’s cheek and then rushed up the stairs. “Slow down, girl! Mind your manners.”

“Yes, Dad,” she said, slowing her steps and lightening her footsteps to head upstairs to change out of her riding gear.

Concerned that she might have missed Cloud—that this commander had already come to collect him—Tifa quickly checked Cloud’s room. It was neat, nothing out of place, and all Cloud’s belongings were still there. There was an empty travel bag on the bed, waiting to be filled with Cloud's things. So she decided to wait patiently for his return while practicing her music.

* * *

Shortly after two o’clock, the doorbell rang. Tifa stopped her music and rushed downstairs, hoping to see Cloud—thinking it was strange he’d ring the bell. But instead, when she entered the lobby, a handsome uniformed raven-haired man was speaking cheerfully with her father. To see two impossibly handsome men within a day was unusual in the village.

“Oh, Commander Fair—” the mayor started, but the soldier interrupted.

“Zack, call me Zack.”

“Well, then. Zack, I’m pleased to introduce you to Tifa, Cloud’s stepsister.”

Tifa gave a short curtsy.

“Delighted to meet you,” she said demurely, looking around for her blonde brother.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Lockhart,” Zack said, taking her hand and dropping a kiss on the back. It surprised her—Nibelheim greetings often involved a handshake, but she’d heard that other larger cities used more intimate gestures. She struggled not to blush.

“Please, come in. Tifa, darling, will you prepare some tea?”

“Yes, father,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.

While she was in the kitchen, she overheard the men walk to the drawing-room. Her father was speaking to the commander in a low tone. When she finally brought out the tea and cookies, the commander spoke up.

“And he still hasn’t returned? From the village's north gate?”

“Right,” the mayor said. “I’m sure he’s just saying his goodbyes to his friends and will be here shortly.”

Tifa served the tea as requested—even though she hadn’t done this in some time. It was one of Cloud’s duties. The fact that Cloud wasn’t back yet bothered her. And her father mentioned Cloud's friends. He didn't have time for friends. His only acquaintances were bullies who harassed him about his looks. Tifa had checked his room—surely, he hadn’t forgotten this opportunity. She tried to relax and enjoy the small talk between Commander Fair and the mayor.

The two spoke for some time about current events regarding the king’s troops movement. The commander was in the process of training recruits. He’d promoted through the ranks quickly and had a knack for reading people and encouraging discipline. Of course, Tifa heard that and looked up. She hadn’t missed the abuse her father doled out to Cloud last night, nor had she missed Cloud’s limp this morning.

After almost an hour, Cloud had still not returned.

“Father,” Tifa started, “I’m worried about Cloud. I know how excited he was. He hasn’t even packed his things. He wouldn’t have been so irresponsible to leave the house or say his goodbyes without at least packing.”

“Tifa, my girl,” the mayor said, “I agree he’s taking longer than usual. You should understand, Commander, that the boy is quite rebellious. He’s at that age, you see.”

“I understand,” the commander said, but he kept his eye on Tifa. “Can you describe him for me, miss?”

“Yes—he’s unmistakable. He has short, fluffy hair the color of the sun, pale skin, pale freckles, and eyes bluer than the summer sky.”

Zack raised his eyebrows at the description.

“How tall is he?”

“Close to my height,” Tifa replied, standing up. “He’s slight in build—except for his long legs and his hips which are slightly wider than most.”

“I will return once I’ve recovered him. He was sent to the north gate?”

The mayor nodded.

“This morning around nine,” he added.

“I see. I will return shortly. Good afternoon.”

The commander saw himself to the door, and Tifa wrinkled the pinafore of her dress in concern.

“Dad, it’s really not like him. I saw how excited he was about this opportunity!”

“Tifa, dear, I spoke to him last night before bed.”

 _I know that, Dad. I heard every muffled scream and cry—despite how the prince himself threatened you!_ Tifa managed to keep her mouth shut tightly.

“It seems the prince may have intimidated him. He was nervous, wondering what sort of favors he might need to exchange for the clothes. I was able to determine that the prince had not already taken advantage of him, but you know how Cloud is.”

“Father, yes, I _do_ know how Cloud is!” Tifa snapped, gaining her father’s undivided attention. “I’m not stupid! He needs to get out of here! Where did you send him this morning?”

“I told you—I only asked him to deliver some correspondence for me, as I have done many times before. I can’t help it if the boy grew afraid and ran away.”

“You think he ran away?” Why would Cloud do that—with this perfect opportunity before him? Tifa did not understand.

“Relax, dear girl. We will be fine without him.”

“Of course we will!” Tifa huffed and walked out of the house without telling her father where she was going. She’d look for Cloud herself if her father wasn’t helpful.

* * *

Until dusk fell, Tifa looked for Cloud in all the spots she knew. No one had seen him. No one had heard from him. There was not a single clue. Discouraged, she walked back to her home, stumbling across the commander, who was also alone.

“Miss Lockhart,” he greeted her, tipping his hat.

She returned a slight curtsy.

“Commander Fair, have you found him?”

Zack shook his head.

“Not yet. But where have you been?”

“I cannot believe Cloud would have run away from this opportunity.”

“Why not?”

Tifa glanced up, looking around for others. They were alone.

“You can tell me, Miss Lockhart. The prince spoke to me of your brother’s... situation.”

“What did he say?”

“He mentioned he believed there was abuse. Are you also a victim?”

Tifa shook her head.

“Cloud is my stepbrother. His mother passed nearly two years ago. My father took a big loss in his business to cover her medical bills and became unsound once she passed. Cloud looks a lot like his mother, and he missed her.”

“The prince did not mention _that_ sort of abuse.” Zack’s heart sank. He’d seen the look on Sephiroth’s face. He’d never seen the man so concerned about another person in his life. At first, Zack had mistaken the prince's interest for love. However, as soon as Sephiroth described the wounds he'd cured, Zack was unsure. The prince had insisted that Zack be relieved of his duties _today_ —and he was already waiting back at the rendezvous point outside Nibelheim.

“That’s _not_ what it was,” Tifa insisted. “My father would never—” Then she paused. She remembered the caning Cloud received—how _brutal_ it was, how he’d been stripped naked in front of her, how humiliated he had been, how she wept first because he was being punished in her stead.

“He’d never _what_ , miss?”

Tifa looked carefully at Zack’s face. He had kind eyes—strange and deep violet-blue, so vivid they appeared to glow. He looked young—only a year or two older than she and Cloud. He looked trustworthy.

“Please, sir, my father is the mayor and his reputation is on the line.”

“I understand. Whatever you tell me will stay between us.”

“Cloud was physically abused by my father. I think he took out his grief over my stepmother’s death on her son. At least weekly, Father would find some excuse to punish him. I only witnessed it a handful of times—once, when he caught us sparring, shortly after his mother passed. I’d asked him to train with me—”

“Spar?” Zack asked.

Tifa nodded impatiently and waved away the question.

“I studied martial arts for some time, but after I turned fourteen I was no longer allowed. Father did not deem it lady-like. But I still asked for Cloud to help me train in secret.”

“And what happened?”

“Father caught us and he was like another person. Angry, violent, vindictive. He humiliated Cloud and beat him unconscious with a cane. I was so violently disturbed that I cried before he did. Then, about six months later, Cloud had failed to do a decent enough job cleaning the fireplace.”

“Wait—why wouldn’t the servants do that task?”

“Father had to let our staff go. He’d wasted the family savings in his grief over our mother. And he saved a lot of money by firing the help. Cloud took over.”

“How old is Cloud?”

“He will be sixteen in August,” Tifa said. “I know—it was too much work, but he did it willingly. He appreciated keeping too busy to deal with his own grief. But he was a _good_ boy, Commander. The fireplace incident—I don’t know why that bothered Father so much, but he was unreasonable. That was when he dragged Cloud off to the public square for a whipping.”

“A public whipping? Of his own son?”

“His stepson, yes. And that was when he first met the prince. I begged him to stop. It was humiliating—and a life-changing experience for Cloud. He was so innocent before, but after the entire village saw him on display and beaten, he couldn’t get away from the bullies and the harassment.” Tifa suppressed a sob. “His looks, his demeanor, he was so sweet! Apparently too tempting to be left alone. I should have done more. I _tried_ to intervene. Father would usually punish him in the woodshed outside, but I could always hear his screams. Cloud often could not walk afterward.”

“There was a third punishment you witnessed?”

“There was.” Swallowing down her disgust and self-loathing, she continued, “It was about two weeks ago. I’d interrupted Cloud while he was in the bath. He had been, um, seeing to his personal needs. I was embarrassed but he was doing nothing wrong. It was _my_ fault for failing to knock, but my father heard me. It was _all_ _my_ _fault_ that he dragged Cloud out of the bath and beat him. He used a belt, a hairbrush, and the bath brush all in the same sitting. Cloud still had bruises two weeks later, and I know for a fact he was punished at least three times out in the shed since then.”

Zack tried to suppress his anger. This could be why the prince was so eager to get the boy out of this home. Why wouldn’t the kid take the chance?

“Can you think of any reason Cloud would leave?”

“I can’t,” she admitted. “This was a great opportunity. I know I shouldn’t say this, but he admired the prince. He collected newspaper clippings and illustrations and a photograph. If I didn’t know better, I’d have guessed he might be in love.”

Zack’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, but he didn’t comment on this.

“Was he beaten last night? After the prince left?”

Tifa sobbed softly, unable to hold back her tears. Zack graciously offered her a clean handkerchief.

“Thank you. Yes. I’m sure he was. I’m not sure what happened, but I heard Cloud’s muffled screams in his room. I cannot believe Dad would do something like that—flouting the prince’s specific command! Except I know Cloud. And he would never do anything to put either of us in danger. Despite how he is treated, he loves both my father and me as his only family. He'd protect us.”

“I know this must be difficult for you to discuss. I appreciate your candor.”

“Please—you can’t tell Father I told you about the beatings.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Zack said, though he was fairly certain he’d need to include the details on his report to the prince. “Shall we see if Cloud has returned?”

“Of course.” Tifa took the commander’s arm. He was extremely strong and sturdy, and Tifa couldn’t help noticing the feel of the strength beneath her fingers. He would surely look out for Cloud, wouldn't he? Her tears had dried and she walked into the house.

Of course, Cloud hadn’t returned. Tifa offered refreshments and Zack agreed to tea. When she returned, she served the tea as elegantly as she could while she waited to see how Zack would treat her father.

“I believe your son has left Nibelheim,” Zack stated.

“Oh? Was he frightened off by the prospect of military discipline?” The mayor asked.

“I don’t believe he went willingly. I spoke to the owner of the farm at the north of the village. He told me he’d seen the boy this morning, heading to the north gate.”

“As I said, I’d sent him correspondence to deliver.”

Zack nodded and continued. “The farmer was working the fields and saw Cloud walk to the gate, but he never saw him return from there.”

“He probably ran away,” the mayor said callously.

“Did he take any of his belongings?” Zack asked.

“I’m sure he packed a bag of supplies to travel,” the mayor said, but Tifa interrupted.

“He didn’t. He took _nothing_. He never would have left without a few treasured items from his mother! All his clothes are there, and there is a bag waiting to be packed on his bed.”

“What were you doing in his room? I’ve forbidden you to visit him there!” The mayor sputtered.

“I was worried when he didn’t come back. I just took a quick peek. He’s my brother, after all.”

“Would you mind if I took a look?” Zack asked.

“Please, help yourself. I do apologize for the inconvenience. I can send him to Midgar the moment he turns up if you like?”

Zack waved his hand and followed Tifa up the stairs. Tifa watched at the door while the commander looked through the items. Nothing seemed out of place—and the room was shockingly tidy for a teenaged boy. As Tifa mentioned, Zack found the box of clippings as well as Sephiroth’s card. It was a little worn, he noticed, as were all the articles and the illustrations. The favorite was the photograph. So—the boy had a crush on the prince?

“It’s most likely he was taken,” Zack said, his voice even and calm.

“Taken? Taken _where_? By _whom_?” Tifa was concerned at once.

“We will find him,” Zack said. “Don’t worry.” He pulled a card out of his snugly tailored uniform jacket. “If you need to contact me for any reason—regarding Cloud or your own situation—use this number and address. I know you don’t have telephone service in the village, but your correspondence will get to me at this address. If you need anything, Miss Lockhart.”

“Or if I hear from Cloud. And will you contact me when he’s been found?”

“Of course. He will probably not be permitted to return here unaccompanied if what I have understood is true. Seph—er, Prince Sephiroth—is very protective of his new cadets. Cloud is not the first young man to leave his home for a better, safer life.”

“I’m grateful,” Tifa said, somewhat soothed by the commander’s calm demeanor. “What will you do? What will you tell the prince?”

“I will report what I’ve discovered here. It’s nothing for you to worry about.” He offered her the same gentle smile. It wasn’t flirty or leering—not like what Roche and the other local boys did. This was a warm, friendly smile—an authentic one that didn’t ask for anything in exchange. “Thank you for your help, Miss Lockhart.”

She couldn’t help the blush on her cheeks, and she cast her eyes to his shiny boots. They were much like the black leather ones the prince was wearing that day in the square. The commander wasn’t as ridiculously handsome as the prince—who had those wonderful mysterious eyes and long, flowing hair—but the commander had his own charm. He reminded her of a loyal dog, in some ways, and she was pleased Cloud would have him as a mentor.

“Please find him. He’s...”

The commander waited for Tifa to continue.

“He’s not at _all_ how my father describes him. He is _gentle_ —truly a gentle, sensitive soul. I don’t think he’d be a good military officer. He cries when he has to slaughter an animal for Sunday dinner! I can’t imagine who might have taken him! Nor for what purpose!”

Zack sighed and ran his fingers through black spiked hair. He shook his head and said, “Miss Lockhart, it would probably be for the best not to think on such things. Instead, understand I mean what I say that we _will_ find him.”

“Thank you.”

With those words, Zack walked back down the two flights of stairs—noticing with dismay that the poor boy had been isolated in the cold attic room. He bade the mayor farewell, promising to be in touch once Cloud had been found and thanking him for his time. The mayor apologized for his son’s erratic behavior, which Zack brushed off.

“Good evening, Miss Lockhart,” he said, tipping his hat on the doorstep. Then, he disappeared into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It really makes my day and encourages me to write. So when in doubt, leave a kind comment to feed the writers in your life. <3


	6. Travels - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zack returns to camp to discuss Cloud's disappearance with the prince.
> 
> Leslie and Cloud make it to Rocket Town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to remind readers that things will get worse (and whumpier) for Cloud before they get better.

Collecting Cloud Strife was not Zack’s only mission in Nibelheim. He was also responsible for collecting other recruits, young men eager to leave their village and make a life and name for themselves in the military. The prince had given a short inspirational speech the day before, and there were about half a dozen potential recruits.

Of course, even after obtaining these six recruits, Zack dreaded disappointing his liege. He’d returned to camp with the recruits in tow, minus the vanished Cloud Strife, and he had them line up for the prince’s inspection. The prince emerged from his tent with light steps, but Zack noticed his arms crossing in displeasure when he noticed Cloud was missing. Zack tried his best not to duck his head in shame as he spoke.

“Your latest recruits, sir,” he said, keeping his voice steady. It was important to seem confident in front of new cadets.

“Very good,” Sephiroth replied, walking down the line of the recruits, causing each young man to straighten his spine as he passed. Zack heard the prince’s subtle sigh. “Welcome to the military. I’m pleased to have your service. You're dismissed." Gesturing toward the mess tent, he continued, "Please help yourself to dinner. Afterward, you will be shown where you can bed down for the night. Fair, with me.”

Those were the words Zack had been dreading. However, he followed Sephiroth back into his tent and gave his report. The prince was his friend as well as his liege.

“What do you mean, he was gone?” Sephiroth growled.

“The mayor said he’d run away—he’d gotten cold feet and decided against enlisting,” Zack replied nervously.

“And you believed the old man?”

“Actually, his stepsister didn’t believe it.”

“I don’t either.”

Sephiroth paced back and forth in his tent. Zack waited patiently for the prince to collect his thoughts.

“You did your best. Thank you for your service.” Sephiroth's usual stoicism made an appearance once more.

“Seph, I’m sorry.” Zack meant it, too. He dropped the formal address and took on the role of the prince’s friend. “We will find him.”

“Did you come to any conclusions about where he might be?”

Zack inhaled a deep, calming breath, which immediately caught Sephiroth’s attention. The prince jerked his head around to meet his subordinate’s eyes.

“At this point, in all honesty, he may have been sold.”

“Sold?” Sephiroth couldn’t hide the disgust in his voice. “Into slavery? Sold to whom?”

“I’m not sure. But I wonder if he’s already on his way to Midgar.”

“You don’t mean this is Corneo's doing, do you?”

“It’s possible, but the Don usually prefers pretty young women, doesn’t he?”

Sephiroth sighed, rubbing his temple.

“Yes, but you didn’t lay eyes on the boy. He is unusually… pretty.”

Zack’s eyebrows raise. He had a suspicion that his general was interested in this recruit for less than honorable reasons.

“Pretty? Seph, I’ve never heard you describe anyone as pretty.”

“You’d use the word, too.” Swearing under his breath, the prince continued, "Is there any hope to squeeze information out of the mayor?"

"I wouldn't count on it, Seph. He holds a position of authority, after all, granted by the king. If we don't have proof, there's not much we can do."

Sephiroth disagreed silently on this point. As for what the prince could do, all scenarios involved his beloved sword, the Masamune. However, the prince was well aware that Cloud considered the abusive man his only family, and he hesitated to bring the boy's family to harm.

“Well, we’ll have to continue to the next village. Perhaps I should send you on ahead to locate the boy.”

“Well, if he is headed to Midgar, he may arrive before we do. I’m happy to see if I can catch up, but if he was sold into slavery, I’m sure the transport is going to be swift and incognito.”

“I hate the practice! I understand why my father permits it—but when I take the crown, I will put an end to the barbaric practice.”

“Where would the boy's skills be appreciated?” Zack asked. “I mean, from what I understood, he was basically serving as a housekeeper.”

“He was responsible for all the household chores as well as maintaining the farm. He could have been sold as a house slave. I can only hope so.” The prince swallowed his discomfort, refusing to imagine the pretty blonde in the Don's care. Corneo ran a notorious brothel in the slums of Midgar. He’d visited with his men, of course. It was common practice for superiors to treat their soldiers after victorious battles. “For now, stay with the group, Zack. We’ll make faster progress with your help, and we have a few more villages to visit on the way back to the palace.”

“Of course. I am sorry, Seph.” Zack longed to assure the prince and tell him not to worry. He was devastated by the loss. Zack had spoken to Angeal many times about the prince’s romantic life. Angeal had heard about the pretty boy from Nibelheim and had been encouraged to see Sephiroth considering anyone in a romantic light. He had told Zack that Cloud was the only reason Sephiroth had decided to return to Nibelheim for recruiting, hoping to get his hands on the boy. Of course, Angeal hadn’t used the word “hands,” (he was far too honorable for that) but Zack understood the meaning.

Sephiroth waved him away.

“Please. Go find some dinner and get some rest. Thanks for your hard work.”

Zack popped a casual salute and clapped Sephiroth on the shoulder as he left the tent.

* * *

Leslie’s carriage made swift progress through the Nibel mountains. At Rocket Town, he planned to switch to faster transportation, and they were only an hour out.

Cloud was the first male slave Leslie had transported. He was relieved that the boy was slight in build, but as he slept in his drugged sleep, Leslie noticed that Cloud’s slim body was packed with hidden muscle. He’d have to keep him drugged for most of the trip, he assumed. Leslie traveled with shackles used to restrain and designate slaves, but he didn’t want the boy to cause a scene. While he was sleeping, Leslie fastened metal cuffs around Cloud’s ankles and wrists, as well as a metal collar. Chains fastened his wrists and ankles together, which would make it very difficult for the boy to run if the drugs wore off too quickly.

The Don made sure to supply his employees with plenty of sedatives for transporting newly-acquired slaves. Leslie added a few drops to a water flask. As he was shaking the flask to mix the contents, Cloud’s lashes fluttered. He was a pretty boy, Leslie thought, surprised to be admiring him and also a little unnerved by the attraction. He had been informed that this boy had drawn the crown prince’s interest and had been instructed to travel as inconspicuously as possible.

“Wh-where am I?” Cloud asked, struggling to sit up. His head spun with drugs and he couldn’t get his vision to focus.

“I’m Leslie, remember? I helped you earlier—when you passed out.”

“Oh, right. Thank you.” Cloud sat up, looking around. He noticed the shackles on his wrists and ankles and brought his hand up to touch the collar around his neck. To Leslie’s surprise, the boy didn’t panic right away. “What is this? What is going on?”

“Drink this first,” Leslie said. “You must be dehydrated. You were out for quite a while.”

It was dark outside already. Cloud was disoriented and confused, but he accepted the flask and took a long pull from it gratefully.

“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

Leslie didn’t correct him, hoping to keep him as compliant as possible for as long as he could. When Leslie didn’t speak, Cloud slowly made sense of things.

“I think there has been a mistake,” he started, fingering the shackles on his ankles.

“Oh?”

The boy swallowed before continuing.

“Yes. I was supposed to meet with one of the prince’s commanders today. I am a new military recruit. The commander must have come for me, and I should go home right away. I don't want to miss him.”

“There’s been a change of plans, Cloud.”

“How do you know my name?”

Leslie held out the paper that Cloud had been instructed to deliver that morning. He handed it to Cloud, who took it suspiciously. The seal had been broken, so he unfolded it to read. He concentrated—feeling nauseated from the constant rocking of the carriage and even worse when the contents of the document sank in.

“This contract confirms that I, Mayor Lockhart, have agreed to sell my stepson, Cloud Strife, into slavery in exchange for 5000 gil plus 10% of his future earnings….”

The contract continued, but Cloud couldn’t understand what he was reading, nor did he want to believe it.

“What is this?” His voice was small and terrified.

“Exactly what it looks like, Cloud. You are about to start a new life in Midgar.”

“I was supposed to—”

“Join up as a cadet, yes, I know,” Leslie interrupted. “The thing is, this deal provides more money upfront for your family. You want to help your family, don’t you? Weren’t you worried about leaving them alone?”

“Well, of course, I love my family—”

“That’s all I need to know. I just want to make sure that you stay cooperative and obedient. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

“But I don’t want to be a slave! This isn't right!

“If you’re underage, your guardian has the right. Slavery is a common practice throughout the kingdom. And really, your life won’t be so different. From what I understand, the current plan is to hire you out for household duties.”

Cloud’s jaw dropped and he looked confused.

“I don’t understand.”

“Don Corneo has purchased you. You now belong to him.”

“But… for how long?”

“For the rest of your life. I mean, he may not find you particularly useful, though. In that case, you may be sold off to another party. But if you behave yourself and are obedient, you will have a nice life.”

“I don’t want a nice life as a slave! Owning slaves isn’t legal in Nibelheim!”

“Perhaps not. But it is common practice in Midgar. Plus you aren’t in Nibelheim anymore.”

Cloud struggled to look out the window.

“Where are we?”

“We are just outside Rocket Town.”

“What?! But I missed the recruiter! I was supposed to—”

“As I said, it wasn’t as good of a deal for your family for you to join the military. Being sold off as a slave is much more lucrative. I can’t blame your family for looking out for themselves.”

Cloud didn’t know what to say. He was devastated—and he struggled to hold back his tears. Leslie could hear his voice trembling.

“Why are you doing this?”

“It may seem distasteful, but I was in your shoes not that many years ago. If you do as you’re told and make yourself useful, you will have your own kind of freedom in a few years.”

When Cloud didn’t reply, Leslie continued.

“I know you were led to believe that the crown prince took an interest in you. You’re not alone in your attraction to him. But he will forget you by the time he returns to Midgar. You will be well settled into your new life by then.”

The tears burning Cloud’s eyes overflowed suddenly, and to his horror, a sob escaped his mouth. He’d been so sure that the prince’s offer would save him from the abuse he’d suffered at his father’s hand, only to discover that he had the life of a slave before him. Even while Nibelheim didn’t permit slavery, Cloud had read plenty about the lives of those in chains. Nothing good could come from this!

“Calm down,” Leslie said, his voice soft and comforting. “It won’t be so bad if you just learn to obey commands. The trip to Midgar will be the perfect opportunity to get some practice. I’ve been in your shoes, Cloud. It’s not so bad. As long as you do your best to comply with commands, you won't be punished.”

“I’m in chains!” Cloud sobbed. “How can you say that?”

“Don’t act out or make a scene. The money has already been transferred to the Mayor’s account. It’s much too late to do anything about it. Instead, you should look forward and figure out how to make the best of the situation. Perhaps you should sleep some more.”

“I am not tired!”

“You’ll want to rest as much as possible before we get to Midgar. Because your living situation won’t be comfortable to start.”

Cloud gaped in disbelief.

“Seph—um, the prince will come looking for me!”

Leslie laughed—not cruelly, but it felt cruel to Cloud.

“If believing that makes you feel better, go ahead. But even the crown prince can’t interfere in the slave trade. It’s his father’s decree that allows it.”

The boy’s face fell. Leslie couldn’t help noticing how sweet the boy was. He wondered if this boy would be added to the roster of house slaves. He was awfully pretty for a servant. Back when Leslie had been sold, he’d started his first year in hard physical labor at the Don’s brothel—cleaning and cooking, then serving food and drinks. He had a hard time imagining that this blond boy wouldn’t catch the attention of a client. It was true: so far, the Don did not offer any male prostitutes. He had sold some of his more attractive male slaves as bed slaves, but he did not keep them at the brothel. Perhaps that would change with the addition of this boy. And the fact that the contract ensured 10% on Cloud’s future earnings indicated a more sinister purpose for the boy.

Leslie had lots of experience with new slaves. He’d been through the process himself. He wasn’t a cruel man, but he had become accustomed to the theatrics, disappointment, and terror from young people discouraged to find themselves in Cloud’s position. But Cloud didn’t fight or try to escape. He was too stunned and heart-broken to try. And that hit Leslie hard. It wasn’t often that Leslie regretted his position in life—it was much better than the hard labor that was forced upon him in his early years. But watching the blond crumble under his disappointment was hard to see. He hoped the drug would work quickly.

Thankfully, Cloud grew quiet and sedated before they arrived in Rocket Town. It helped alleviate Leslie’s guilt.

In other circumstances, Leslie would have stayed overnight at his preferred inn in Rocket Town. However, knowing that the crown prince had expressed interest in his charge encouraged him to travel overnight. He’d left his car there. He easily transported the sleeping boy to the back seat and traveled through the night.


	7. Travels - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie brings Cloud out of the Nibel mountains onto a ship.
> 
> TW: Lots and lots of angst, some non-con partial nudity, seasickness/nausea description, possible character bashing of Leslie.

After driving through the night, relieved that his captive stayed asleep in the back seat, Leslie pulled into the docks at the coast north of Rocket Town. Traveling through Rocket Town was a less direct route to Midgar. If the crown prince were interested in the fresh slave's fate, he surely wouldn't think to travel this route. Leslie had been on a delivery for the Don when he’d been instructed to travel to Nibelheim to collect Cloud. Fortunately, Rocket Town had a smaller, less-frequented port. A large ship, carrying both cargo and passengers, waited in port.

Shortly after sunrise, Leslie pulled into long-term parking. After collecting his travel bag, he pulled open the back door to move the sleeping boy. His face was relaxed and at peace—innocent and sweet—as well as shockingly beautiful. It wasn’t that Leslie hadn’t found the boy adorable before. But seeing him in soft repose seemed to bring out the innocence, combining it with his strange beauty. He’d never seen another slave with hair that particular shade of gold, eyelashes so dark and long, skin so creamy—not even the most popular prostitute at the Honey Bee Inn.

Two conflicting thoughts filled Leslie’s head at that moment. First, the belief and expectation that this Cloud boy could be the making of the Don. He could be the golden goose Corneo had sought for so long. Second, the boy would almost surely end up in any other position than a household slave. Guilt rested heavily in Leslie's chest, but also immense pride in having been the one to successfully collect him. And for 5000 gil? It was a bargain, even if that extra ten percent would be scraped off the top for the mayor. Leslie hoped that he’d get a promotion, perhaps even permission to run his own brothel, for his efforts.

As it had been some time since Cloud’s last dose of sedative, Leslie was careful not to jostle the boy when pulling him out of the car and draping him over his shoulder. He boarded the ship preparing to leave for Junon. The sailors were working efficiently and quietly, and the captain waved, a long-time acquaintance and partner in crime.

 _Well, hardly a crime_ , Leslie thought. The slave trade was a perfectly legal and acceptable way to make a living, at least in Midgar.

He was familiar with the ship and had a regular room, stocked with supplies to handle rebellious and reluctant slaves. In addition to the regular stateroom amenities, such as a private bathroom with a shower, a large bed and working space, a luxurious area for relaxing and entertainment, there were special additions to this room. A cage large enough to fit a person was bolted to the floor, with a removable pillow to cushion the bottom of the cage if the slave had earned the privilege. Additionally, a long chain connected to the wall, leaving enough of a leash for the prisoner to move about the cabin and restroom without permitting him to leave the room.

Leslie also stocked extra sedatives and a variety of implements that could be used to discipline and restrain unruly slaves when necessary. As he lowered Cloud temporarily onto the bed, brushing across the boy’s pert buttocks, Leslie realized this was the first time he’d ever hoped that his captive might disobey. Beating a male slave was a different experience—releasing a different kind of stress—than worrying about damaging female slaves. As a slave himself, Leslie had personal experience with these disciplinary techniques.

According to the research, the mayor had called Cloud rebellious, disobedient, and a poor influence on his daughter. If the boy had arranged to enlist in the military, he was most likely familiar with corporal punishment, probably to escape an abusive home. On consideration, Leslie took a moment to examine the sleeping boy more closely. Perhaps it would be wise to prepare him in advance, just in case he got the idea of escape in his head. Leslie did not want to chase a panicked, naive mountain boy around the ship.

Plus, Leslie told himself, he’d be doing the poor kid a favor. He’d soon have to get used to showing more skin in his new life. Even if he _did_ manage to make it as a household slave, he’d most likely have to suffer through minimal coverings. So he stripped Cloud of his clothes.

Newly captured slaves were rarely used to walking barefoot. Having their bare feet exposed on less-than-perfectly smooth wood floors could be painful. So the boots and socks were removed first. The boy had small feet and rounded toes. Surely, there was a market for slaves with pretty feet—if not in a brothel then with a private collector.

To remove his pants without removing his shackles, Leslie used a small, sharp dagger to cut the fabric away from the boy’s body. Beneath his ratty trousers, Leslie was surprised to see an elegant pair of silk underwear. These looked well-made—too well crafted for a country village servant. Pale ivory in color, simple and comfortable boxer style briefs hugged his hips. They were quite flattering on the boy.

Once the pants had been removed, Leslie looked at his shirt. It also was out of place. Compared to the boy’s well-worn boots and the rough weave of his trousers, the shirt felt silky soft against his skin. Leslie didn’t want to remove it, as he looked at Cloud lying on the high-quality sheets. Perhaps—just this once—he would simply remove the shirt’s laces and leave it open at the neck. He would remove it for disciplinary purposes if the boy misbehaved.

Leslie carefully adjusted the cushion at the bottom of the cage, fluffing it up more than he would have usually bothered. Once satisfied, he moved Cloud into the cage and attached the heavy chain to his collar. He closed and latched the door of the cage for extra security, leaving the blonde inside like an exotic pet.

Cloud had only been awake a short while in their travels, and it was important not to overuse the sedative. So while onboard the ship, Leslie had the cage and chain at his disposal, in addition to the disciplinary implements and restraints. He briefly imagined silencing the boy’s cries with a ball gag, shivering at the erotic image. No matter, he thought. He’d save it for when it was necessary.

The crew was used to transporting slaves. That did not mean anyone would appreciate hour after hour of howling and screaming. Most new slaves did panic during the overseas journey. Leslie was exhausted from the drive, and hungry as well, so he'd worry about any noise concerns once he'd recovered. He helped himself to the freshly baked bread and cheese that had been placed on the low table. Then, he placed a new bottle of water within the cage, admiring the young blonde once more. Ethereal beauty—a shame he was less than a commoner. He would have made a nice match with the elegant crown prince.

After stroking the soft spiky hair—so soft, standing up on its own—Leslie kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his underwear to sleep. As he crawled under the covers, the rocking of the ship shifted to the familiar swell of the sea. They’d pulled away from the port, much to his relief. He drifted off to a sound sleep.

* * *

When Cloud next opened his eyes, he was overcome with nausea. Trying his best not to vomit on himself, he sat up abruptly, confused and disoriented. His head knocked against the side of the cage—making a loud clang against the iron bars—and horror crept into his belly, mixing with nausea and increasing it.

While Cloud was anxious and sick, he was still stunned by his surroundings. Its opulence spoke of old money—rich mahogany floors and expensive, well-maintained furnishings. But he found himself in a cage and was utterly sick to his stomach.

The floor seemed to be moving, swaying beneath his body. Cloud hadn’t ever traveled from Nibelheim before, except by foot into the surrounding forests. As his mind cleared, his nausea increased. He had been _sold_. No. _His father had sold him into slavery._ He was destined to be treated lower than a farm animal for the rest of his life. He understood the concept of slavery and was disgusted by it. He knew slaves had shorter lifespans due to terrible living conditions. And none of these thoughts helped calm him.

When Cloud laid eyes on the large bed for the second time, he noticed a lump underneath the blankets.

“Excuse me?” He whispered. He was surely going to be sick. His head ached and his mouth filled with saliva. The smell in the air was unfamiliar—briny and salty—and he had no idea where he was. He gathered his strength and spoke louder. “Hello? Please—I’m going to be sick. _Please_!”

The lump on the bed shifted around and groaned before sitting up. There was the man he’d met yesterday—was it yesterday? How many days had he been traveling? Where on earth was he? When he sat up, the man’s pale hair stuck up randomly, and he rubbed his eyes.

“What’s wrong, Cloud?”

“Please, I feel sick! I’m going to throw up!”

“Shit,” Leslie muttered. He climbed out of bed and walked into the attached room. Perhaps a bathroom, Cloud thought. Leslie returned with a wooden bucket—an ancient-looking thing that didn’t belong among this luxury. The door to his cage was opened and Leslie handed Cloud the bucket. “Throw up in there and be neat about it. Drink some water when you feel better.”

 _The kid must get seasick_ , Leslie thought, turning away when he heard Cloud retch. He didn’t just retch once, either. After his stomach had been completely emptied, he continued vomiting again and again. Leslie opened the window in their cabin to let in a fresh breeze and let out the smell. The longer he waited, the more he realized that the boy’s ailment would make the trip insufferable, even if it would keep him mellow and confined to one spot. So, Leslie rose from the bed, the rest of his sleep forgotten, dressed, and searched through his materia selection. He should have a Cure materia to restore the boy’s equilibrium.

Once he located it, he slotted it into the amulet on his wrist and walked over to Cloud. Watery blue eyes shimmered miserably—but even amid his illness, the boy maintained that other-worldly beauty. He looked exotic like he came from another world. After shaking himself, Leslie cast Cure several times, waiting a few moments to make sure it was helping.

“I’ll have to find some medicine for you. Drink up that water while I’m gone.”

“Why am I here? Where am I?”

Leslie sighed.

“You saw the contract. We are headed to Midgar. The ship will take us to Junon in about five days. From there, we will travel by car to your new home.”

Cloud sobbed, surprised that the sound escaped without his permission.

“Please— _please_ don’t do this. _Please_. Just let me go.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Leslie replied, not looking up from tying his boots. “You’ve been sold to the Don.”

“I can pay you. I will _repay_ you. More than what my f-, um, the mayor gave you. I will ask the crown prince for help—”

Leslie barked out a laugh.

“The prince has forgotten you already, kid. You’re stuck. You might as well get used to it.”

“Please! I just want a chance to—”

“You’re not the first new slave I’ve collected for the Don. There’s nothing either of us can do to prevent your fate. Get used to it. You have some time to adjust before we arrive in Midgar.”

Still, watching the boy’s expression tugged at Leslie’s heartstrings, bringing to mind his own experience traveling across the sea nearly two decades ago. He had been young when his parents sold him to pay his father’s gambling debts. He couldn’t remember what they looked like, nor did he care. As he left Cloud behind, he felt he was running away from those painful memories as the boy’s soft crying filled the cabin.

Cloud, left alone in the cage, hugged his legs. The shackles were rough and heavy, leaving bruises around his wrists and ankles. The chain attached to the metal collar on his neck weighed him down. Scooping up the bottle of water Leslie had left, he took a careful sip. It felt nice, soothing his throat and washing the acidic bile from his tongue.

He couldn’t _believe_ this was happening. He had been so excited about his new life—invited to attend the prince’s military and to support his family. He could still feel the weight of his mother’s favorite teacup in his hands and taste the floral flavor of the tea he hadn’t had in two years.

There _had_ to be a mistake. He hadn’t been feeling well when the man found him. _Leslie_. His name was Leslie. Cloud fuzzily remembered reading the contract while in the carriage, but it _had_ to be a mistake. He remembered the mayor’s fond smile and Tifa’s excitement about his new life while they celebrated after breakfast. Nothing made sense.

He also remembered the crown prince—caring for his wounds, letting him bathe, sharing his clothes, feeding him, and bringing him home. He also clearly remembered the kiss on the doorstep. Butterflies fluttered in his belly when he thought about the soft warmth of Sephiroth’s plush lips, wondering when he might feel them again. A broken sob slipped out, and fresh tears spilled down his cheeks.

Cloud was crying pathetically when Leslie finally returned. He held out two tablets to Cloud and ordered him to swallow them.

“These will settle your stomach. They might make you a little sleepy.”

“Thank you.” Cloud swallowed the pills obediently.

“Perhaps a little food would help.” Leslie passed him a slice of bread through the bars of the cage, deciding to keep the blonde in the cage for now. “Let me take off the chain for a while, just to lighten your load.” Leslie was proud of his benevolence, especially when he saw the grateful look in the blonde’s eyes.

Cloud felt somewhat lighter once the chain was removed, but he became self-conscious about the state of his clothes once he finished the bread. He wasn’t wearing shoes and his pants were gone. He was glad the prince’s shirt was mostly intact and relieved to be wearing underwear.

“Um, did something happen to my clothes?” He asked, keeping his voice soft. It didn’t take long for the medication to settle his stomach.

“You won’t need them,” Leslie explained. “As a slave, you’ll rarely be allowed a shirt. This is to help you adjust.”

Cloud listened carefully to the words. It didn’t sound safe—doing the cooking or other chores while barefoot and in a state of undress. His mind worked slowly, recovering from the sedative, the seasickness, the newness of the situation, and the medication.

The boy had read the history of the slave trade, and he understood that there was a certain type of slave, a bedroom slave, that wouldn’t require clothing. Ownership of those types of slaves was limited to the upper echelon of society. Their training was lengthy, expensive, and horrifying. Fear crept up Cloud’s spine.

“Um, am I really going to be a regular household slave?”

“If you behave yourself and are obedient, I don’t see why the Don would sell you. You’re not bad to look at, after all.”

The words didn’t soothe Cloud in the least.

“If I don’t please him, what happens?”

“You will be punished. Corporal punishment. Surely, you’re already used to that.”

When Cloud didn’t reply—the welts from the mayor’s beating burned on his ass and between his cheeks—Leslie went on.

“The Don prefers his slaves to learn quickly. If you don’t correct your behavior after the first whipping, you will be punished publicly and more severely. I’ve seen some new slaves beaten daily with a cane for an entire week.”

Cloud shuddered.

“If you use more resources than you contribute, the Don will auction you off to the highest bidder. You could be sold to a coal mine or other hard labor. Your life will be much better with the Don.”

“That’s not right,” Cloud whispered, feeling panic rise in his chest. " _None_ of this is right."

Why hadn’t he experienced this panic until now? Perhaps he had been _drugged_. Maybe that was why he was so sick and groggy. But the calming effects of the drug had left his system, and his body started to tremble and shake. Water sloshed onto his fine shirt, the bottle clutched tight between his shackled wrists.

 _Sold? Auctioned? Beaten? Caned? Whipped?_ And what if… what if his future was even worse than Leslie suggested? What if he was captured to be assaulted? To be raped? To be used by some smelly old man?

Cloud’s breaths came faster and faster and soon, he couldn’t hold back his fear.

“Please, I _can’t_ —I can’t _do_ this,” he stammered. “Please—you have to _help_ me. I don’t _belong_ here. This is all a _mistake_. This _has_ to be a mistake. I was supposed to travel with the crown prince, to join the military cadet program, to train, to serve him. My family _supported_ me! Father even served me tea before we left! We celebrated as a family…”

Leslie let the poor boy stammer for a while, without interrupting him. He’d seen this many times—after the sedative wore off, many new slaves would insist a mistake had been made, that their family loved them, that they would never sell their dear child. So he waited it out. But Cloud didn’t calm down. He kept escalating.

“Please—let me see that contract. Father said it was confidential communication for a colleague on the council. It _can’t_ be true. He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t _do_ this to me, to Tifa—”

“Listen, kid. I get that you’re disappointed—”

“ _No_ ,” Cloud insisted, his voice getting louder. “You don’t _understand_. It’s a mistake! I _have_ to get out of here!”

“You need to calm down,” Leslie suggested. “Get your breathing and volume under control. I can’t have you screaming for no reason and disturbing the other passengers. If you pull yourself together, I will let you read the contract one more time.”

Then, Leslie waited, reclining in the chair, watching the beautiful boy struggle with his emotions. He’d be beautiful if he were punished. Every confused emotion showed on his face, his heart on his sleeve. He would make the Don a pretty penny. Maybe Cloud would even be the main attraction, the center of attention, when he received his first public punishment. It would attract new business to the Don’s, and it would be a boon for Leslie, too.

After gasping loudly several times to slow his breathing, Cloud managed to calm himself down. He struggled to behave himself. It was adorable—watching him struggle. Leslie only felt a little evil thinking about how cute the boy was when distressed. Leslie would suggest Cloud as an attraction to the Don himself and earn himself a promotion.

“Good boy,” Leslie said.

“M-may I please s-see the contract?” Cloud asked, his voice stuttering but calmer.

Leslie stood from his comfortable spot, walking to the desk to pull out his briefcase. In it, he easily located the contract. He carefully took it out and carried it over to the cage. He held it up outside the bars. He’d learned long ago that the most desperate slaves would try anything to destroy that contract—as if that would change their fate. He’d even seen one slave _eat_ it.

Cloud’s face fell as his eyes skimmed the document. Leslie felt pulled into those soulful eyes, which occasionally peeked up through long lashes. Light freckles dusted his cheeks and his button nose. His hands were as smooth as the rest of his skin.

A mournful keen leaked from his lips. For a moment, and just a moment, the beginning of the sound had a sensual tone beneath it—just enough for Leslie to imagine how the boy might sound at the height of pleasure. Cloud's chest hitched in grief and desperation, and fresh tears fell.

“It’s not so bad. I’m sure your stepfather punished you even when you hadn’t done anything wrong. Didn’t he?”

Cloud moaned softly and nodded his head.

“Well, in this new life, you won’t be punished if you behave yourself. And you’ve been a good boy for me so far. I’m sure this will be a better life for you.”

Cloud nodded, tear-stained cheeks shimmering in the afternoon light, and then he crumpled on himself. Sobs wracked his small body, and Leslie figured it would be a good time to get some fresh air on deck and leave him in peace.

“Cry it out if you need to, kid. Just make sure to keep your voice down. I’ll be back in a little while.”

Leslie put the contract away and left the sobbing boy alone in his cage.


	8. A Lesson in Discipline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud experiences first-hand what happens when he disobeys a direct order from Leslie. Just as Leslie plans.
> 
> TW: Non-con spanking, angst (lots of it), fear, humiliation. Also, Leslie being particularly cruel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a gentle reminder that is really is a dark fairytale. :)

It took Cloud some time to recover after crying his eyes out. Once his tears had dried up, chest hitching, he tried to catch his breath. His eyes were sore and red, and he rested the back of his hand over his eyes, the cool temperature soothing the swelling.

He had been so close to a new life—a _good_ life—only to have it swept out from under his feet. While he wasn’t usually one to complain, he felt the turn of events was unfair. He couldn’t imagine the life of a slave—it didn’t matter who he served.

Well, if the _prince_ wanted him as a slave, Cloud would consider it. The prospect of dedicating his life (and his body) to serve Sephiroth gave him purpose. Their ranks were already hopelessly skewed and unequal, but as things stood now, Cloud could never hope to obtain the prince’s affections. The next best thing would be to belong to him.

With the prospect of slavery hanging over his head—the bars caging him, the shackles weighing him down—his hopes had been dashed. _This wasn’t right_ , he told himself. Surely, someone would help him after seeing the injustice of his situation. And that’s when Cloud got the idea to call for help.

He guessed that he and Leslie weren’t the only passengers on the ship. There had to be more people—at least the crew—who would consider his dire situation and lend him a hand. Cloud wasn’t confident that the prince would reimburse his savior, but the boy couldn’t imagine Sephiroth leaving him to suffer.

“Is anyone out there?” Cloud called out. He sat up straight and grabbed onto the bars. Raising his voice, he continued, “Please! If you’re out there, I need help! _Please_!”

He waited a moment after no response and then raised his voice to a yell.

“Please! I’ve been captured and enslaved—and I have a life waiting for me! Please help me! Please!”

He called out until he lost his voice. He drank the rest of the water and screamed some more, getting more and more desperate as the minutes passed.

After twenty minutes, Cloud was at his wit’s end when the door to his cabin opened.

“Oh, thank Gaia! I—” But Cloud couldn’t finish the thought when he saw Leslie standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, a disappointed expression on his face.

“ _Cloud_. What did I tell you about keeping it down? You don’t want to disturb the other passengers, do you?”

“I just, um...”

Leslie closed the door behind him and walked over to a built-in closet next to the bed. He opened it up and pulled out a few items and threw them on the mattress.

“I’m sorry,” Cloud said. “I just—I couldn’t _not_ try. If you’ve lived through this yourself, surely you understand.”

Leslie sighed heavily. He wasn’t truly disappointed. Part of him was looking forward to disciplining the young blonde. Perhaps he wanted to get his hands on Cloud’s body. Perhaps he just wanted to see him suffer beautifully. He was curious how much it would take to break the boy’s spirit. His strong desire to see those things unnerved him, making him feel cruel. But he pushed the thoughts out of his mind as he returned to Cloud’s cage. He had a job to do.

Picking up the heavy chain, Leslie quickly opened the door and clipped the chain to the back of Cloud’s collar. Then, he gave it a harsh yank, pulling the boy out of his cage.

“Please— _wait_ —I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care about your intentions. It’s your role now to comply when your betters give you commands. You deliberately disobeyed me with that screaming, and you’re going to be punished for it.”

“No! I didn’t—”

“But you _did_ , Cloud.”

Leaving the boy on the floor, curled into himself, Leslie walked over to the wall where the chain was connected. He reeled in the length of the chain, pulling the boy along with it. He dragged Cloud to his feet, still struggling.

“Stop struggling. The more you fight, the worse your punishment will be.”

Cloud considered this—helplessness and the inevitability of what was about to happen churned in his stomach. His ass was already sore—even just _remembering_ the last belting made his skin sting.

“Please—I’m sorry—I won’t ever—”

“I know you won’t. After this, I’m sure you’ll see I’m serious about your behavior.”

“ _Please_...”

Leslie reached up to the low ceiling, connecting a link of the chain to a hook, suspending Cloud on his tiptoes. He then pushed a stool in front of the boy, between him and the wall, giving him a space to lean against.

Cloud complied immediately, grabbing the seat with his hands to prevent himself from swinging and to relieve the pressure on his collar. He gasped for air and stayed still, leaning forward.

Taking a moment to admire the boy, Leslie took a step back. To make the lesson sink in fully, he’d use everything at his disposal. With that in mind, Leslie yanked Cloud’s underwear down to his knees, leaving his cute little ass bare and on display. Cloud gasped a sharp breath when he was so roughly exposed, a humiliated blush flooding his cheeks and ears.

The first thing Leslie noticed were pink welts—most likely from a belt—striped horizontally across Cloud’s creamy backside. The few vertical stripes placed strategically between his cheeks looked incredibly painful. Leslie had been correct in his assumption that Cloud had come from an abusive home.

“This is going to hurt. On the other hand, the pain will make you think twice the next time you prioritize your desires over my commands.”

“Please,” Cloud begged, his voice soft and desperate. He clenched his legs together tightly, despite knowing the beating would hurt even more. “Please—I’m sorry—I’ll be good.”

“I know you’ll be good, Cloud. Especially _after_ this lesson.”

Collecting a silicone ball gag from the bed, Leslie shoved it into Cloud’s mouth, muffling any further sound. Cloud’s eyes widened as Leslie buckled the straps. Cloud’s fingers crept up to his mouth, touching the ball, but the length of chain between his wrists prevented him from reaching the back of his head. He hadn't even recognized the gag for what it was until the buckle clicked behind his head.

Glancing between Cloud’s welted behind and the implements on the bed, Leslie considered which to use. He selected a riding crop. This choice would allow him to get a handle on how much Cloud moved and fought. It was a flexible plastic rod with a narrow leather tongue at the end. It was an exact tool, one that could leave a precise welt exactly where Leslie wanted it to go. It was light and easy to handle, and Leslie could redirect his blows if the blonde tended to wiggle.

Another grunt sounded from Cloud, and saliva dripped around the gag, down his chin and making a soft wet noise on the floor. He’d seen the crop and tried to move, but he couldn’t quite reach the floor to get away.

“Hold onto the stool, Cloud. Keep your hands out of the way.”

“Hmmph!”

Ignoring the soft pleas for mercy, Leslie let loose a series of short, sharp, precise snaps, littering Cloud’s striped skin with pale pink rectangles in the shape of the keeper. The skin surrounding the welts went white, leaving a pleasing pattern on the boy’s ass and thighs. With each blow, he pulled a smothered cry from the blonde.

Cloud wasn’t used to the quick, bright pain inflicted by the riding crop. He had been sure he’d cried the last of tears, but within minutes, his eyes were burning. He tightened his grip on the seat of the stool, concentrating on relaxing his ass and thighs. But when he felt a cruel blow right at the base of his spine, between his cheeks where his tailbone curled under, he let out a groan and let his tears spill.

A riding crop can be used quickly and effectively—covering a large area with painful welts. It took little energy to wield, so Leslie was never winded. He was almost certain Cloud might hyperventilate and pass out from all his suppressed sounds before Leslie tired of wielding the implement. The boy had a nice voice, soft and sweet but surprisingly vulgar behind the gag. Goosebumps traveled up Leslie’s spine into his neck with each successful hit.

Cloud felt helpless and desperate—the pain bright and burning over his existing welts. He knew his skin wasn’t being broken, but the soreness would hold onto him for hours after this punishment. He begged and pleaded through the gag, promising never to disobey Leslie again, promising to be quiet. But his words weren’t intelligible.

The beating was quick and to the point, lasting only about five minutes. Any longer than that, Leslie would have broken skin. The goal was to beat Cloud into submission and force him to face the consequences of disobedience. As far as the reason for punishing Cloud, Leslie was well aware that he’d set the blonde up to fail. He had been certain Cloud wouldn’t be able to comply with his order to be quiet. No slave he’d ever captured had. Leslie was surprised it had taken this long for the boy to reach this level of rebellion. Cloud would make an excellent slave.

The crew of the ship was familiar with all the antics used by newly captured slaves. They expected the disruptions and the noise. They knew all of Leslie’s tricks—for example when he’d leave a slave’s cage unlocked deliberately to convince them an escape from the cabin was feasible. Only once had that trick backfired, when the escaped slave jumped over the side of the ship and he’d had to rescue her from drowning.

Whatever the slave’s temperament, Leslie did his best to have at least two discipline sessions under his belt by the time he arrived in Midgar. It served several purposes. First, the slave would learn his place under threat of physical punishment much faster if he’d already suffered a beating on the journey. Second, because of the lingering pain of corporal punishment, slaves would be more compliant on the journey as well as once they arrived in Midgar to avoid exasperating their pain. This made them easier to handle. Leslie believed pain was the key to “settling” disobedient slaves.

His beliefs were confirmed as he watched Cloud sag against the seat of the stool. Tears were still falling, but his muffled cries had changed to soft gasps. The blonde was much more relaxed after the beating, too, as Leslie had hoped.

Reaching out his hand to Cloud’s punished ass, he smiled as the boy flinched under the not-so-gentle caress. His skin was hot to touch but silky smooth even with the fresh welts. The boy shuddered when Leslie pulled his underwear up and snapped the elastic waistband against his hips.

“You handled yourself well, Cloud,” Leslie praised. The boy didn’t respond. He was occupied with hopes that this really was the end of the punishment.

Leslie reached up to release the chain from the hook on the ceiling, then grabbed Cloud’s arm. He dragged the boy back to the cage and pushed him inside, keeping the chain connected to his collar. The soft, breathless “mmmph” prickled his ears when Cloud landed hard on the cushion. Leslie left the door of the cage open for now, and he also kept the gag in place. Cloud peered up at him with sorrowful blue eyes damp with tears, wiping the spit from the corners of his mouth. Before walking away from the cage, Leslie gripped Cloud’s chin, tilting his pretty face in the dusk light. His long lashes were clumped together in spikey curls, tears threatening to spill any moment. His lips were still plush stretched around the gag. His face was softly pink, emphasizing his light freckles.

Cloud let out a helpless-sounding, wordless plea when Leslie dropped his chin and walked away.

“It’s a good look on you,” Leslie explained his reasoning for leaving the gag in place. “I want to rest and you need to keep quiet, so I’m going to keep the gag in place for now. I’m sure you appreciate all the help I’m giving you to obey.”

He plopped down heavily on the bed and kicked off his shoes, lying back with a loud sigh. He was pleasantly relaxed and surprisingly aroused from his most recent interaction with the blonde. He briefly considered taking care of the pressing need in his groin but ended up opting to leave it. He would be able to fluster the blonde more easily during the next discipline session if he used his pent-up sexual frustration.

Cloud was quiet on his part, still catching his breath and fussing with the gag in his mouth. He tongued at the silicone and its unpleasant taste. He hated the feeling of it and was horribly flustered by how it must look. The drool was humiliating. He felt like a dog—or less than a dog—after that latest punishment.

Still, he was confused that the door to the cage had been left open. And he considered the length of chain attached to his collar. It could be used to strangle his captor. Perhaps he could choke Leslie as he slept. But that would leave Cloud alone, chained to the wall. He’d be punished more severely if he failed his escape attempt. Closing his eyes, Cloud imagined climbing to his feet outside the cage, sneaking up quietly on the unsuspecting Leslie, then wrapping a length of heavy chain around his throat and pulling tight.

The violence of Cloud’s fantasy shook him to his core. He’d never felt such rage at his abuser before, and he didn’t like it. Why hadn’t he ever felt like this toward the mayor? He’d always felt he’d (at least partially) deserved the punishment he got. If he hadn’t deserved it, wouldn’t that mean the mayor was beating him for his own pleasure and gratification, rather than for Cloud’s improvement?

Sighing softly, Cloud finally understood how untenable his place in the family had become since his mother’s death. He had been treated worse than a servant. It wasn’t because the mayor grieved the loss of his wife, either. It was only for his sick entertainment. And also, Cloud supposed, because the mayor wouldn’t lay a hand on his flesh and blood.

When had his life become so extreme? At what point had the mayor decided to sell him into slavery? Had Cloud missed a chance to make himself essential to the family, to force himself into the role of a real son and brother? To be lovable? To have some worth? All of his efforts felt wasted and helpless, leaving Cloud desolate.

While he watched his captor sleep peacefully, Cloud’s heart clouded with sorrow and regret. And _rage_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly, Cloud has some steel underneath that soft exterior.
> 
> OK. So the muse has been HOUNDING me since two days ago. I hope I don’t regret updating this fic so soon. :)


	9. On Bathing and Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie bathes Cloud and furthers his training. Cloud gets a wallop of a reality check.
> 
> CW: This is a disturbing chapter. If you haven't liked my mean/cruel characterization of Leslie so far, you really will hate me after this. Non-con nudity, groping, and humiliation, including a facial. Also extreme gaslighting and emotional manipulation.
> 
> I'm just going to remind you all that this is NOT a Disney fairytale.

Once Leslie woke from his afternoon nap, he gave a long stretch and climbed out of bed to check on his charge. Though he’d left the door open, Cloud hadn’t moved from his cage and was sleeping restlessly on his stomach—probably to protect his most recent welts. They’d been traveling for some time, and Leslie decided it was time to let the boy bathe. He would turn a bath into a lesson.

“Cloud, wake up,” he said, shaking the boy’s shoulder. 

Blue eyes fluttered opened, dazed with confusion before they narrowed sharply. Cloud’s anger straightened Leslie’s spine as lust coursed through him. It was unusual for Leslie to feel attracted to any of the latest additions to Corneo’s slave collection. Why _this_ boy? Even after the glare cooled into a more familiar, frightened expression, Leslie's desire refused to abate.

“We've been on the road a few days. I’m sure you’d like to bathe.”

Cloud nodded, a hopeful expression crossing his young face, his voice murmuring assent behind the gag. He lifted his bound wrists in expectation, only to be disappointed when Leslie pulled on the chain between them to hoist him to his feet. The young blonde swallowed down his fear and anger and tried to remind himself of the inherent _goodness_ of others—specifically, the humanity that must reside in his captor.

The small bathroom held a bathtub with a removable shower head. Leslie plugged the drain and turned on the faucet before turning back to Cloud. He’d have to remove the chains to get the boy’s clothes off, and he hesitated for a moment.

“If you don’t want me to shred the rest of your clothes, don’t move.”

Cloud froze in place. He treasured the shirt from the crown prince and felt a soft blush when he thought of the underwear. He was anxious to get the gag and shackles off. Leslie paused a moment, taking time to unbuckle the gag and slip it from Cloud’s mouth. Cloud’s lips felt dry and swollen from being stretched. However, he was surprised how it felt to be able to move his lips and jaw again. It had been shockingly easy to get used to the gag. To his mortification, it dawned on him that he wouldn’t be allowed to bathe on his own when the chains were removed, first from his wrists. Leslie wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Sir, I can bathe alone,” Cloud began, trying to keep his voice respectful.

“I know you can. But I don’t trust you. Take your arms out of your sleeves.”

Cloud complied, then was frustrated the moment Leslie clicked his wrists together with his arms in front of him. This was even less comfortable than having a chain between them, limiting his motion even further. While Cloud was distracted by his new bonds, wondering how he could manage to shampoo his hair and soap up his body with his wrists locked together, Leslie unclipped the chain from his collar and pulled the soft shirt overhead. He reattached the chain to the collar once Cloud’s torso was bare.

As more and more pale skin was revealed, Leslie felt he was unwrapping an expensive, precious gift. He moved to the chain between Cloud’s ankles and unclipped one side, nodding his chin to encourage Cloud to strip off his underwear. However, with his hands bound in front of him, Cloud struggled with the waistband. So Leslie had Cloud lean forward against the sink, while Leslie slid off his last remaining article of clothing, replacing the chain between his ankles immediately.

“Get in,” he said, unable to keep his gaze from the beautiful boy. Flawless skin marred only with older stripes and fresh welts decorated his backside. His legs were muscular and nicely shaped. And for his youth, Cloud’s body was slender with defined muscles on his back, chest, and abs. Leslie could only think of Cloud as his golden goose. Surely, he’d be the change in Leslie’s fortunes.

The boy was uncomfortable and shy—only ever having exposed himself unwillingly to others. Even the crown prince had only seen him completely naked once—and Cloud had to push that thought away quickly. It was a pleasant memory that warmed his heart, sending heat through the rest of his body, and that heat wasn’t welcome as long as his captor remained in the same room.

“I can bathe _myself_ ,” Cloud insisted, curling his legs up and pulling them against his chest while enjoying the warm water.

“I do not doubt it. However, you ought to get used to others seeing to your care and maintenance. You are now a piece of _property_ , Cloud.”

Cloud suppressed a soft whine when Leslie grabbed the back of his collar and pulled back sharply, making him lose his balance and slip under the water. Once his hair was soaked, Leslie pulled him back up from the water right away—only somewhat alleviating Cloud’s fears of being drowned.

Using the provided shampoo, Leslie combed his fingers through blond locks, watching as the formerly soft spikes tried their best to stand up away from the boy’s head. Like a Chocobo’s tail, he thought, only softer and smoother. Cloud’s innocence was compelling and enticing—and already, Leslie imagined that his attraction would be even more compelling after being dolled up in white silk. _Angelic_ —really—the boy was angelic.

“Some of your clothes are too fine to belong to a servant. Did you steal them?”

Cloud shook his head, inadvertently spraying soapy water throughout the bathroom.

“No! The crown prince lent them to me.”

“Oh?” Leslie was surprised. Not a likely story, but one that indicated that perhaps the blonde was more experienced than he looked.

“He, um, he found me bathing in the river,” Cloud explained, clutching a bar of soap awkwardly between his shackled wrists and struggling to wash his body. “Some other boys from the village had thrown my towel and clothes in while I was bathing. He lent me these while mine dried.”

 _Interesting_ , thought Leslie. He’d allowed Cloud to stay in the shirt and fancy underwear mostly because they flattered him. Now, he realized the boy had an emotional attachment to the clothes—particularly because they belonged to the crown prince. The boy obviously had a crush, and that could be used against him to modify his behavior.

“I was only meant to _borrow_ them,” Cloud continued, glancing up at Leslie to guess his thoughts. “I’m sure he will come looking for me when he does not get them back.”

When Leslie didn’t say anything, Cloud went on, “You know, it could be considered _stealing_. I mean, if you kidnap me while I’m wearing the prince’s clothes. _You_ could be arrested for stealing.”

Leslie had to smile, massaging Cloud’s scalp and watching him squirm with discomfort under the touch. He could tell the boy both enjoyed it and hated himself for enjoying it. It was fun to make him squirm. _Addicting_.

“What a kind soul you have, Cloud. I had no idea you cared so much for me.”

“I _don’t_!” Cloud retorted, quickly curling his legs against his chest, trying to hide as much of himself as he could from the other man.

“You know, you are going to have to let me soap you up, kid. Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Hurting Cloud had its attractions, Leslie thought. His tears were gorgeous, precious like diamonds. It was incredibly rewarding to see pain blossom pink and vivid on his skin. Perhaps Leslie would try a little humiliation to encourage the boy’s future compliance. Once he’d finished shampooing Cloud’s hair, he tipped him backward to rinse. Cloud let out another surprised whine but closed his eyes to prevent the soapy water from stinging. 

“Let’s get you clean,” Leslie said, moving to take the soap from Cloud’s hand.

“I can do it!” Cloud protested.

“Perhaps, but that’s not your place anymore,” Leslie said, watching with some amusement when the slippery bar of soap popped out from between Cloud’s fingers and into the water. Leslie scooped it up quickly and rubbed it over the boy’s back.

Watching his muscles flex in a mix of relaxation from the hot water and the discomfort of foreign touch on his skin, Leslie felt his arousal stand at attention as it had earlier when he had taken the crop to the boy’s tender backside. It gave him another idea to help encourage the new slave’s willingness to obey. It would be a hard lesson to learn, but not at all unpleasant to teach. Leslie was fond of killing two birds with one stone, after all.

First, Leslie needed to get Cloud to disobey or resist more openly. The boy seemed uncomfortable while his back was scrubbed with a cloth, but winced whenever Leslie moved to his chest. Perhaps he had sensitive nipples—and surely, he’d not been touched so intimately before. Leslie was using a deliberately tender touch, too. 

The next time Leslie brought the soap to Cloud’s chest, he ran it lightly over his nipples. Cloud instantly curled in on himself, trying to hide his blushing face. The pink flush crept down to his chest, delightfully accenting his perky nipples.

“Please—please,” Cloud whispered, unwilling to look up. Even the tone of his begging turned Leslie on. 

Well, no better time and place to take care of things.

“Cloud, you need to relax and let me do what I have to do. It’s for your own good,” he said sternly. Cloud didn’t relax. “I will give you one last warning. Move your arms away from your body.”

“Please—I don’t _want_ this—I don’t _like_ this.” The gorgeous boy's voice was covered with tears, minutes from falling. And he didn’t obey.

So, Leslie climbed to his feet and dropped the soap into the water. Cloud jumped at the sound of the splash, staring straight ahead, still curled up in a tight little ball. It would never work at the inn. Even if he _did_ end up a household slave, Cloud would have to learn to relax enough to allow himself to be touched all over. It was only natural—for a life of a slave. Leslie had grown up with the experience. He couldn’t remember a time in which he felt he had a say in how his body was handled.

While Cloud’s attention was focused on calming himself, Leslie unzipped his trousers and freed his erection, stroking it deliberately and fast, with the intent of coming as soon as possible. He needed relief, but he also needed Cloud to learn to obey—or else suffer the consequences of disobedience.

Cloud’s ears were filled with a vulgar wet sound right next to his ear. At first, he was started enough to turn his head to discover the source of the noise. Horrified at his captor's actions, Cloud immediately shrank back in the water, trying to get away from Leslie.

“ _Please_ —don’t—please!” He cried softly, cringing in the bath, scooting away as far as possible. Of course, Cloud knew what Leslie was doing. But the act had never been performed before him before.

If Leslie were a kinder person, he might have heeded the boy’s sobs. But as it was, the soft desperate voice was so gentle and sweet that it increased Leslie's arousal to the point of no return. From the blonde’s voice alone—as well the delicious, virginal body covered only with soapy water—Leslie came faster than he’d intended. 

Before he released, however, he grabbed Cloud by the hair, digging his fingers into the crown of his head and pulling him close. Cloud cried out in pain, his bound hands struggling to find relief, but he couldn’t reach where Leslie was holding him tight. And it was too late—Leslie sprayed his climax all over the blonde boy’s face. His gorgeous blue eyes blew wide, white streaks dripping from his lashes, trying to blink away the sting. Ribbons of fluid flowed down his full cheeks and dripped off his chin—pearls among the diamonds—and Leslie gasped at the erotic sight.

Perhaps it was the combination of something so vulgar on such a virginal, innocent canvas. In any case, the beauty of Cloud’s pale skin was only brought out more, and his soft voice shocked and choking with confusion and humiliation. But Leslie held tight to the boy’s head, wondering if he ought to shove himself in the boy’s mouth and demand to be licked clean.

After the earlier spanking, however, Leslie didn’t want to risk a bite from the feral slave. He did not doubt that the rage he’d seen, even briefly, in Cloud’s eyes was very real. He’d have it beaten out of him sooner or later, Leslie thought. It was a _kindness_ to help him learn to deal with it now.

Once he was pleased that Cloud understood the nature of his punishment, Leslie clarified the situation while the boy recovered from his shock.

“You need to understand your _place_ , Cloud. In this new life, your _only_ job is to please your master. Everything can and will be taken away from you if you fail your task. Punishments will be _severe_. You got off _easy_ this time. I didn’t force myself into your mouth and I didn’t rape you. But if you disobey me again, I will whip you until you comply. You’re already delightfully prepared and stripped down for punishment. So _think_ about your actions more carefully next time.”

Cloud lowered his gaze at the lecture but couldn’t avert his face until Leslie released his hair. _Please, just let me go. Leave me alone. Leave me be._ But there was no mercy for him. His chest hitched slightly—and the sound encouraged Leslie to finally let the boy go.

“I don’t want to discourage you. You can see from my example that good things can happen to you as well _if_ you are willing to follow the rules. Who knows? Perhaps in a few years, you will get a promotion. With promotions come freedom. I haven't had anyone looking over my shoulder since I worked my way into the Don’s trust.”

Cloud nodded. But he secretly thought he’d _never_ want Leslie’s job in a million years. Yes, compared to Cloud’s current position, it appeared Leslie had more freedom and luxury. But at what cost? At the cost of another person’s freedom. What would happen to Leslie, Cloud wondered, if he was unsuccessful bringing Cloud to Midgar?

The more Cloud thought about it, the less he cared about Leslie’s well-being. He understood that Leslie never wanted to be a slave any more than Cloud did. But he worked _with_ the system and _encouraged_ it, reinforcing the barbaric practice. Maybe it would be better to be a disobedient slave and suffer physical punishment and cruelty than to force slavery on anyone else. The young blonde’s stomach churned with dissatisfaction.

Additionally, he left his face alone, stayed completely still and compliant as he'd learned during the mayor's beatings. Leslie was pleased with this—the fact that Cloud did not immediately try to scrub his face clean. He appeared to be a compliant boy, even he was currently a little skittish. It was a sign of a submissive, obedient slave. In reality, Cloud was dying to scrub off Leslie’s leavings. He felt utterly disgusting and inhuman—and he couldn’t imagine feeling more used. In some ways, he would have preferred a whipping to this sort of degradation. But he kept his emotions locked up tight.

“Are you ready to comply, Cloud?”

Blond hair shook up and down the moment Leslie let up on the spikes clasped in his fingers. He released his hand and combed through the soft hair—such an unusual texture. Leslie knew there were no other slaves at the Don’s with hair like this. He'd only ever seen hair close to this shade once on a foreign royal customer. That alone would make the boy a prize for a collector. For now, though, Leslie got back to work washing the boy, this time with a much better success rate.

Cloud tried his best to keep his hands away from whatever area Leslie was cleaning. Since Leslie was no longer painfully aroused, the silky smooth skin and perky nipples were an enjoyable part of the bathing ritual, for Leslie anyway. Maintaining Cloud’s virginity would be essential to his value. Leslie had met many clients who longed for virgins. Again, they were female virgins, at least up until now. But this boy’s androgynous beauty would surely capture the attention of the more adventurous clients. He could think of at least two—some of the wealthiest of Shinra's elite ruling class—who would be interested. In that case, it would be important to preserve him for as long as possible.

His thoughts wandered to his early days as a houseboy at the Honey Bee Inn. He’d seen quarterly auctions as new prostitutes were added to the ranks. New girls with fresh skin and lovely faces dressed to the nines and were displayed on stages, while the crowd overflowed into the lobby. Leslie imagined how Cloud might appear—draped in white silk and dressed as an angel—feathered wings attached with a harness. Or perhaps he might be disguised as a captured foreign princess, dressed in a silk blue gown. Only while on stage his dress would be lifted to reveal his pretty male bits, covered and tucked soundly into virginal white lace. Leslie sighed softly. Yes, even the boy's genitals were pretty, the gold pubic hair fine and shimmering.

Or—maybe they could dress him as a choir boy, stripping off his robes to reveal nothing but a thong on the stage. Religious symbolism always was a big seller. The gods only knew how many “celibate” priests were regular customers of the Honeybee Inn. Even better—he could dress the boy in the uniform of the crown prince’s highest order, SOLDIER, hiding minuscule lingerie underneath, barely covering his private parts. He would flex his muscles on his narrow frame and do a slow striptease. The possibilities were endless.

Best of all, Leslie could not find a single flaw on the boy’s skin or body that hadn’t been inflicted by punishment. As far as he was concerned, the marks from the crop and the belt only added to Cloud's beauty. The marks would incite a buyer in their fantasies—knowing they might be able to take out all their frustrations safely on his male figure—and then indulge in the sweetest, most sinful defloration possible.

Leslie smiled to himself while imagining how best to present Cloud to the Don—what would maximize his value without tempting the Don to take his virginity himself. Leslie could see his fortunes lifting. While Cloud was no mind reader, he could tell something horrible was going on behind Leslie’s warm golden gaze. He struggled to stay still, if not relaxed, while he felt the soap and cloth dragging over his abdomen, his chest, his arms, his legs, and his feet. He trembled softly, making ripples in the water.

“On your knees, Cloud,” Leslie ordered. Ah—another thing he’d need to work with Cloud on as soon as possible. The Don would need to see that Cloud was capable of obedience. He just needed simple guidance to start. He’d need to learn to relax in his kneel, embrace his submission and his low status, if only to maintain his sanity.

Cloud hesitated. He didn’t want to lift his lower body out of the water. He was innocent and pure—and very young—and he longed for nothing more but to serve the prince with all of himself. In Cloud's active fantasies, that included his body if the prince was so inclined. But he was not interested in sharing this part of himself with anyone other than the prince. When Cloud delayed too long, Leslie glared down at him and reminded him of what would happen if he disobeyed.

“Cloud. We’ve been _through_ this. I know you want to be a good boy and you want to be good for me. But if you don’t get up on your knees _right now,_ I will drag you out of the tub by the chain around your neck and beat you until you cannot stand.”

At the threat, Cloud immediately complied, swallowing the remaining shards of his dignity. He kept his face low, but Leslie still admired the blush on his cheeks and ears. Using more pressure than was technically required, Leslie scrubbed the boy’s tender, abused skin, making him wince. It was only seconds until the directly-applied soap started to burn, and Cloud whined softly and grabbed onto the side of the tub with his bound hands. He dared to look over his shoulder at the man treating him so harshly.

“ _Please_ —I’m sorry—it just _hurts_ —and I’ve never been, um, I’m just not used to—”

“If you think _any_ of your future masters will care about your preferences, you’re sadly mistaken,” Leslie interrupted harshly, despite the pull of the blue eyes pleading with him. “Your best bet is to _obey_. _Always_.”

As he continued to wash Cloud, even groping him between the legs and forcing his thighs apart, Leslie considered what to tell the poor boy to encourage his obedience. Equal parts empty promises and physical discipline, along with a hefty dose of humiliation, went a long way in training a good slave.

“Listen, kid. I know you’re unhappy that your family sold you. But this is your life now. If you want to have even a modicum of pleasure or happiness in your future, you really should consider obedience your only option. As much as I know you’re longing to escape, understand that not only is there no way off the ship, but outside this cabin is a risk to you.”

“A risk?” Cloud echoed. He hadn’t considered this.

“It’s why I suggested you remain silent or at least quiet in your grief. I punished you for your _own_ safety,” Leslie said. Of course, this wasn’t close to the truth, but he could make it work. “If you managed to escape into the hall—if you were able to get rid of the chain around your neck—the _only_ thing that waits for you out there will destroy your future.”

“My future?”

“Yes. Your worth as a slave now depends on your _virtue_. Your _virginity_. And between us, the crew is _barbaric_. They would chase you and hunt you down, strip you naked and rape you, passing you between them. You need your virginity to stay intact to maintain your value as a slave.”

“My _what_?” Cloud could not believe the words just came out of Leslie’s mouth. “Wh-what does _that_ have to d-do with anything?!"

“You are _unique_ in your beauty, sweetheart. Androgynous. And that is part of your attraction, you see. In this business, you have to use _everything_ you have— _all_ the tools at your disposal—to ensure the best life for yourself.”

A visceral shudder crawled down Cloud’s spine. He hadn’t considered that he might end up as a bed slave. Of course, he knew about them—their horrible lives, their training, their punishments—but he hadn’t considered it might happen to _him_.

“If, um, s-something were to happen, would that lessen my value? Would that, um, keep me a household slave? No one would want someone, um, previously, um, _used_ , would they?” Cloud ventured.

“I wouldn't count on it, Cloud. You might just end up as damaged goods, used for the release of other slaves or the lowest of the low. You'd _still_ be used for sex, only with partners who could not improve your living conditions.”

Nausea welled up in Cloud’s belly. The motion sickness medicine may have worn off, but he was truly physically horrified.

“I can’t do this,” he murmured—talking to himself. He tried his best to even out his breathing, but in no time at all, Cloud’s lips and nose were numb and fuzzy. He hated the feeling. He wanted to _escape_. Maybe he could jump overboard? Would that even be an option? Could he do that, knowing the prince was out there waiting for him?

“Listen, kiddo, don’t worry about it. You can’t affect much about your future except by obeying me and proving your trust and worth. I have a valid reason for everything I tell you. I want what is _best_ for you, Cloud. You can trust me. It’s to my benefit for you to succeed. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but we are on the _same team_. Just be safe—and _obey_. All right?”

Cloud nodded, feeling hopeless and helpless—but slightly relieved that Leslie might be looking out for him. But how did his words affect his actions? How he’d put him in shackles? Whipped him with a riding crop? Cum in his face? The logic didn’t fit. The more Cloud thought about it, the worse he felt. So he tried his best to calm down and stop thinking.

“I feel sick, sir,” he admitted.

“Ah—right. You’re probably due for another dose of medicine. Let’s get you out first and dry you off.”

So Leslie helped Cloud out of the bath and wrapped him in a towel, leading him back into the bedroom for a fresh dose of medicine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh crap. I caught a tiny error in this chapter and have updated it. Whoops!


	10. Sleep Conditioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Cloud finishes his long, grueling day on the ship. However, in his sleep, Leslie continues his training with some sexual conditioning.
> 
> CW: non-con somnophilia, non-con handjob, but a fluffy wet dream on Cloud's part. This chapter could be angst-inducing for many new reasons, the least of which is that the "comfort" Cloud gets here is imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sure I need not remind you, lovely reader, that this is a dark fairytale and to read at your own risk.

After the bath, Leslie offered Cloud another dose of motion sickness pills. He allowed the boy underwear but not the shirt—though he didn’t mind seeing the blonde exposed in all his glory. In the silk boxer briefs, Leslie could imagine what sort of future the boy would bring him. Seeing Cloud dressed in so little inspired more ideas.

He offered Cloud another crust of bread and a bottle of water, watching the boy’s eyes grow heavy. He’d had an exhausting day, certainly. A beating almost always took away one’s energy. Between that and the humiliation he’d suffered during the bath, Leslie thought Cloud had probably had enough for the day. He let him go to sleep, watching him curl up on his belly as if trying his best to protect himself, knowing he’d be vulnerable if he shut his eyes.

Well, he’d have to get used to it soon enough. Cloud would always be vulnerable from now on. Leslie stepped out on deck for fresh air and to smoke a cigarette before he turned in for the night. Cloud was sleeping soundly when he returned to the room.

Cloud had shifted in his sleep. He’d curled up on his side facing the open cage door. From in front of the cage, Leslie could see the boy was dreaming—his eyes moving rapidly back and forth behind his lids, lashes quivering against the tops of his cheeks. A small sigh escaped his barely parted lips, and a pink tongue shot out to moisten them.

The dim lamp provided the only light in the cabin. Still, in it, the boy looked gorgeous. Sleeping and sweet, the innocent purity spilled out around him like a halo.

And yet, upon a closer examination, Leslie noticed the boy was aroused. This would be an excellent opportunity to use Cloud’s natural instincts to further his training. Leslie was no expert on sex slaves, but he understood the basic training necessary for the lives of all slaves. It was possible to train slaves for compliance by balancing positive reinforcement with harsh physical punishment.

To ensure the blonde would stay asleep for his lesson, Leslie cast Sleep from the materia slotted in his bracelet. This particular materia had been carefully calibrated—allowing the victim to continue dreaming if he was already sleeping. It allowed for several status spells, ranging from Silence to Frozen, some allowing the victim to speak and some not. The glowing spell shimmered prettily around Cloud’s body, and he sighed, content and unaware of his surroundings.

Crouching next to the cage, Leslie reached out and ran his fingers through Cloud’s hair, ruffling the freshly washed spikes gently. He smelled nice—like innocence—in Leslie’s mind. No perfume could rival or overpower that scent. And then, Leslie moved his hand lower, ghosting over the boy’s covered hardness.

Cloud was having a dream—a strange and wonderful dream. He was surrounded by the subtle luxury of the prince’s cabin, exactly as he remembered it, freshly bathed and dressed in fine clothes, sitting at the prince’s side on the couch. The tea was hot and ready to be served from the table in front of them when Cloud noticed a subtle shift on the cushion as the prince crept closer.

Straightening his spine as his lower half filled with excitement, Cloud’s eyes drifted down to his lap, upon which his folded hands rested. Warmth pressed against his thigh, and he struggled to keep his jaw from dropping when he saw the prince had drawn close enough to touch him.

“Do you fear me, Cloud?”

“N-no, sir,” Cloud tried desperately not to stutter. While his voice trembled, he wasn’t afraid. He was unbearably aroused. He felt breathless—as if a band tightened around his ribs and squeezed his chest. When gloved fingers brushed his chin, he looked up at the gentle nudge.

He met the prince’s eyes boldly. They were so unique and pretty—glowing a soft, silvery green in the low light, with long slit pupils like those of a cat. The prince’s beauty was unworldly—with his long silver hair cascading down one shoulder and dark lashes framing his eyes. In a way, Sephiroth displayed all this foreign beauty as if it were natural. Cloud secretly hoped that one day, his own unique coloring would seem less unnatural and draw less derision—or perhaps change to the sort of attention Sephiroth gathered.

Sephiroth’s thumb brushed his lower lip, pushing it down ever so gently. When Cloud looked up at those eyes again, the pupils had spread wider, sending a shiver of heat right to his groin. A soft sound—like a moan—escaped from his lips without permission, and he wished for boldness, wanting to confess to the prince all of his love, lust, fascination, and longing.

“Sephiroth,” was all he managed.

The prince leaned forward ever so slowly—and Cloud knew what was going to happen. He remembered in great detail (and in great frequency) the kiss on his doorstep. This time, he wouldn’t let the opportunity slip through his hands. If he wasn’t bold enough to confess his undying loyalty and love to his prince through words, he would do so through action.

He relaxed into the touch and submitted to the kiss—at first. Silky plush lips touched his, brushing the lower lip first and then the upper lip. But once the prince dropped a soft kiss on his upper lip, Cloud reached out with both hands and dug them in the prince’s long locks. Slipping like silk through his fingers, Sephiroth's hair held value beyond measure. Cloud was emboldened and pursued the innocent kiss, taking his turn, first kissing the prince’s chin and then his lips, and then opening his mouth in invitation. Another soft moan flew from Cloud’s mouth and was gobbled up by Sephiroth.

If Cloud had shown a little courage, the prince responded in kind. And in this special world—this dream world—the prince was no prince, but only Sephiroth. Cloud felt the lean, warm muscle of a foreign tongue in his mouth, hands combing through his hair, carding gently through his spikes rather than gripping them to manhandle him into position. It felt more natural than he dared to imagine—as if they belonged together in that position and had been created that way.

Something close to a purr vibrated between them—Cloud smiled softly, thinking Sephiroth had so many characteristics of a large cat, and felt them even more strongly when Sephiroth physically pulled him into his lap. His arms were strong and corded beneath his clothes—and what might he look like underneath? Would the rest of his skin be so pale and flawless?

Placed atop his idol’s lap, straddling it, Cloud felt the length and strength of an erection pushing into his abdomen. Encouraged, Cloud canted his hips forward and lowered himself against Sephiroth’s legs—feeling the strength between his thighs and his buttocks. For a change, there was no sting or lingering discomfort when his buttocks ground down against the prince—as if Cloud’s wounds had healed or had never existed.

Daring a little more, Cloud reached up to touch the beautifully sculpted face, while Sephiroth gazed down at him, a breath of a smile playing at his lips. Cloud felt cherished, his heart warming, in that look. And so he leaned closer, this time pushing his hips as close to the prince’s erection as he could.

A growl reverberated between them when their lips touched, Cloud’s hands touching Sephiroth’s chin and tangled in his hair, while Sephiroth wrapped his hands around Cloud’s waist. His hands skated down Cloud’s sides and lowered to the dimples of his hips, flattening against his body and caressing the curves of Cloud’s gently-clothed ass. Never had he been touched so tenderly—embraced like this—a part of his body normally reserved for ruthless punishment now lavished with love and care.

“I’ve longed to touch you since that first day I saw you in the square.”

At first, Cloud thought he’d spoken the words since the sentiment was his, but the voice was Sephiroth’s. Tears burned Cloud’s eyes—not of sadness but for joy at Sephiroth's desire for him. His love—his desire—his fantasy was reciprocated. He was so taken that he couldn’t speak, couldn’t form words. So he leaned up to kiss the prince instead, this time bold enough to let his tongue explore. While kissing with tongue—up until this very moment—wasn’t something Cloud had thought he’d ever enjoy, all his prior reservations flew from his mind as warm flesh embraced warm flesh. Sephiroth also took his turn ravishing Cloud’s mouth, careless of spilling saliva from the corners.

The kiss echoed what Cloud envisioned he might feel in another part of his body, should their physical relationship progress. Sephiroth’s tongue invaded him, and Cloud’s mouth easily made room. Maybe there was nothing to fear when his body was so accommodating and welcoming and Sephiroth so gentle and full of care. Fire licked up Cloud’s spine, boiling and sizzling in his stomach, and he pressed closer to alleviate the burn.

However, the pressure between them made Sephiroth push Cloud into his lap even harder, grinding him against his body. And as fine as those clothes felt against his skin, Cloud could think of nothing more than wanting to feel all of Sephiroth against his bare skin.

One of Cloud’s hands slipped down Sephiroth’s face to his jaw and throat, sneaking down to the exposed skin crossed over with the leather straps of his harness. Perhaps the straps were uncomfortable—but the leather was smooth and perfect. Cloud even dared brush the pad of his fingertip across one single pink nipple, causing a responding shudder from the man beneath him.

That was it—the crown prince beneath him, between his legs, pushed up against him—not for the sake of power but pleasure. Instead of emphasizing the inherent social imbalance between them, this physical touch brought out their similarities. Cloud longed for sweet tenderness as much as Sephiroth. Both were starved for the affection and love of the other. While aroused and tense with desire, their muscles relaxed and their bodies were at ease in each other’s presence.

“I want to stay with you forever,” Cloud confessed suddenly. “I want to be yours.”

Sephiroth pulled back slightly to examine Cloud’s honest, blushing face with affection, and his hands shifted again. One hand slid behind Cloud—resting at the base of his spine, that area the mayor enjoyed punishing so much—and the other slipped down Cloud’s chest, resting for a moment over his pounding heart.

“You are perfect for me,” Sephiroth said. “I desire every inch of your body and all of your soul.”

And then—praise Shiva—a royal, gloved hand pressed down over the insistent outline of Cloud’s cock and squeezed through the fabric. Even through the layers of fine cotton and silk, Cloud couldn’t hold back—this had been his dream since he first met the prince in the town square—to be in the prince’s arms, to be looked upon not with disgust or convenience, but to be held as a lover.

The sounds that Sephiroth wrenched from Cloud were an orchestra of purrs, gasps, pants, and moans—all covered in desperate lust. While not insisting on taking anything for himself, the prince touched Cloud for his own pleasure. The heat that had been boiling in the boy’s core and pooling intolerably in his groin finally and suddenly spilled over with only one more squeeze.

Cloud shook with pleasure, trembling under the touch, expressing his voice in delight—

And Leslie felt that pretty cock twitch beneath his hand. He could tell Cloud was about to climax, and he quickly pulled Cloud’s waistband down to free his erection, exposing it as pearl white cum spilled from its tip, spraying up against the boy’s stomach. His pubic hair glistened with a silky golden sheen, making him look like a fallen angel. Simply watching the boy’s back arch and his hips jerk, then relax back down with nothing but pure bliss on his sleeping face, was enchanting. The sounds that spilled from Cloud’s mouth only added to his attraction.

Perhaps Cloud could be dressed as a fairy prince, Leslie thought as he watched the sleeping, sated boy settle into the cushion. Perhaps they might paint him gold—from the tips of his ears down to his toes—and encrust him with gemstones. Dress him in little but gossamer silk wings. Perhaps a simple silk loincloth would suffice, and a mechanical device to make those gossamer wings flutter, so the silk would drag across his smooth skin. His feet could be bare or wrapped in gladiator sandals to accent his gorgeous calves.

Odin, the boy was pretty. How the hell was Leslie going to be able to protect him? Certainly, he’d never stand a chance with the Don, who would want to claim him as his own. Leslie needed a plan to present to the Don in advance. If Leslie could come up with a list of wealthy, interested buyers, perhaps they could be enlisted to help train Cloud—and also pay for the privilege of training such a unique specimen. Those who would show interest would get the first shot of taking his virginity at the auction. But before the auction night, having had the prior privilege of training the boy, no one would want him to go someone else and a bidding war might ensue. The possibilities for making money off this lovely new slave were endless.

As part of his training, Leslie envisioned sending the boy out for those cult-like, barbaric ceremonies the local church practiced. He would be attended by a gifted, enslaved healer. Then he might be offered as a pure and virgin sacrifice to whatever gods wanted such a being—and seeing Cloud naked on an altar would attract just about any god, as far as Leslie imagined.

If blood play was required, if actual death was required—well, they had the talent to bring him back and heal him. As far as Leslie knew, no materia could restore his virginity, not that a physical mark would be seen once he lost it. But before cashing in on the boy’s first time, Cloud could make them plenty of money—and also drum up interest for his future auction from a large pool of priests as well as the elite of Midgar.

Standing up to fetch a towel, Leslie continued in his thoughts. Yes, he should be careful with putting Cloud forward too enthusiastically, He ran the risk of losing it all before the auction. Perhaps Cloud would need to be supervised in all his training sessions. His virginity could remain intact under a great many circumstances.

He returned to the still-sleeping boy to clean him up. Cloud looked even more gorgeous while in repose after pleasure. This sexual training would serve well as part of their new routine. The Don would be impressed by Cloud’s sensitive response to touch while still maintaining his fearful expression—the confusion that indicated his lack of experience. But Leslie could train Cloud’s body to respond at the slightest touch—to come on command, even—while Cloud slept. Those lessons should carry over while Cloud was awake, too, though the boy would be none the wiser about his training. And if he kept needing the motion sickness medicine, this plan was genius. Leslie would be honored for coming up with such an effective way to induce passion in their youngest, least experienced slaves.

Because more than anything, Leslie wanted to see the boy flustered with passion. Touched by a stranger—publicly—and unable to hold himself back, and utterly confused by his response. Or better, punished when he failed to hold himself back. While tenderly cleaning off all of the boy’s release, Leslie took in every inch of his body. Smooth skin tight over lean muscle. Too much muscle? Perhaps. That could be fixed with a dietary change. It was common practice to fast slaves to match them to the tastes of the clientele. Some of their current population never ate more than a single meal a day—and others would skip any food at all, eating only once every other day.

Leslie let his mind wander as he reluctantly pulled up Cloud’s underwear. Additionally, he slotted the cultivated Sleep materia into Cloud’s collar. These collars were designed to draw spells to the wearer and prevented the wearer from casting, sort of acting as a way to attract spells, opposite of a normal bracer. So from a distance, Leslie would be able to freeze Cloud, silence him, or force him to sleep. Equipping a time materia would add to these effects, and give him the ability to force Cloud to hurry or slow down in whatever task he was doing. Ah—this would require more careful thought, the effort of which would show in the boy's final form.

Reluctant to leave the gorgeous blonde asleep with that soft expression on his face, Leslie considered bringing him into his bed. Perhaps in the future—for another day or another lesson or reward. He’d be too much of a temptation for Leslie in this state. Cloud’s lashes sparkled with tears, but his body was completely soft and relaxed. His usually pouty forehead was smooth, and even the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

Leslie sighed in admiration. There was something almost wickedly pure about this boy—this walking contradiction. And now, resting soundly in sleep, he was perfect. Petting the soft spikes a few more times, Leslie pulled away and climbed into bed. He loved watching the rise and fall of Cloud’s chest as he slept—and he wondered what the boy could have dreamed? Of his prince coming to his rescue?

It was hardly likely. But he’d need to take advantage of the Don’s connections to see how serious the prince’s interest went. Cloud could easily be hidden when the prince was scheduled to visit, but his unique looks would probably make him memorable. The prince didn’t often visit—only for celebrations which he could not avoid. But other members of SOLDIER might come across Cloud—and perhaps there were a few of them who would enjoy helping with Cloud’s training.

Leslie’s mind was running a thousand miles an hour as he lay in bed. But once Leslie drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of soft, pleased sounds that spilled from plush pink lips.


	11. The Training Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud wakes up to a rough morning, and Leslie continues with Cloud's training.
> 
> CW: This is a pretty dark and non-con fic. There is non-con groping and masturbation, humiliation, intimidation, and a spanking in this chapter.

When the sun rose the next morning, Leslie sat up in bed, watching his captive's chest rise and fall in a sound sleep, curled in his cage. Well, he’d already decided on this method of training, so Leslie rose and walked over, casting Sleep on Cloud to ensure he wouldn’t wake.

Like the previous night, Leslie took the boy in hand and fondled him to hardness. He took time to run his fingers through Cloud’s blond hair with his other hand, intending to condition him to sexual response and arousal through the touch of his soft spikes.

He made quick work of the boy—he was young and his sex drive normal for his age. The moment Cloud was about to climax—his back arching and his hips thrusting—Leslie quickly pulled up his underwear and snapped them into place. Cloud came all over himself, soaking the fine silk and gasping breathlessly.

Leslie stood up and washed up in the bathroom, leaving Cloud on his own. Leslie reversed the Sleep spell and then climbed back into bed as if he were just waking up. Then, he watched as the boy woke to find himself in such a depraved state.

“What—?” His voice, thick with sleep and confusion, was adorable. Cloud looked down at himself, horrified. He’d had such a wonderful dream last night and an echo of it that morning. His body had betrayed him while sleeping in the same room as his captor, and he swallowed his shame, wishing for a hole to open up that he could crawl into.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Leslie purred. “You’re in quite a state, aren’t you? Have some pleasant dreams last night?”

In an instant, Cloud curled up on himself, trying to hide the results of his climax. His stomach roiled uncomfortably, nauseated with the ship’s sway as well as his shame.

“I, um, I don’t feel well, sir.” Perhaps he could distract Leslie with his motion-sickness. Yes, Cloud thought. Leslie was responsible for his well-being and would treat his motion sickness. Leslie didn’t need to know the details about what Cloud experienced in his dreams.

“Of course. You are due for your pills.” Leslie got out of bed and brought him a bottle of water and two more pills. He refrained from giving Cloud any solid food, for now, figuring it would be enough to make sure he stayed hydrated. Cloud took the pills gratefully, swallowing them down while shifting uncomfortably in his small, confined space. Leslie brushed his fingers through Cloud’s hair, watching with pleasure when goosebumps shivered down his neck and back.

“Don’t soil the cushion, Cloud.” Leslie stood up. “You need another bath.”

Shame melted to fear, and Cloud hunched over his body protectively.

“What? You want that to dry on you?” Leslie smiled. “You do make the _loveliest_ sounds when you come.”

To that, Cloud’s blue eyes shot up to meet Leslie’s gaze. Sharp anger overpowered Cloud’s humiliation, sparking in his eyes and sending a burst of arousal through Leslie’s hips. Oh, that anger was _definitely_ attractive. He watched Cloud clench his hands into fists even as the blush reached his ears and throat.

“It’s only natural, Cloud,” Leslie said soothingly. His words did not soothe Cloud, however. It only made him feel more humiliated. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Trying to calm down, Cloud let himself be guided out of the cage. Shaking with shame and anger, he couldn’t bring himself to meet Leslie’s eyes. Instead, he glared down at his feet. His stomach was dripping with the leavings from his dream, ruining his otherwise relaxed afterglow. Part of Cloud wondered if all of his future pleasure could now only be found in his dreams. Had he lost his chance at love along with his freedom? 

Cloud behaved himself during the bath—allowing Leslie to soap up his body, ignoring the overstimulation from a stranger’s hands caressing his most intimate parts. Worse still, his underwear had been soiled and ruined. In addition to the fine shirt he’d borrowed from the prince, these clothes seemed to be the only remembrances of his life before his enslavement. What if these were the last pieces of Sephiroth he’d _ever_ see or touch? Cloud pushed the thoughts from his mind, concentrating on keeping himself relaxed and compliant.

After pulling Cloud out of the tub, Leslie dried off the boy with a towel and suggested he wash his clothes.

“It should be warm today,” Leslie said. “You’ll be fine in a towel while they dry.”

He brought in Cloud’s fine shirt and threw it and his underwear into the bathwater, handing Cloud a bar of soap. Trying his best not to fume, Cloud clenched his teeth and scrubbed the clothing, rinsing them carefully once they were clean. After a few minutes, he settled into the repetitive work. It felt familiar and relaxing to keep his hands occupied. Leslie perceived this with interest, wondering what other chores might keep Cloud calm. It would be another ten minutes before the medication tired him out.

Leslie brought in his laundry and asked Cloud to wash it as well. Looking up, Cloud nodded, wrapping the towel around his waist to keep himself covered. Leslie hung up Cloud’s items and then watched the boy work. He could see the line of Cloud’s jaw sharp with tension, but it relaxed more and more as he got lost in his work.

“Are you hungry, kid?”

Cloud had to think about it. He shook his head after a moment. He hadn’t felt anything like hunger for some time. The medication made him more sleepy than usual. 

“I’m tired, sir,” Cloud admitted. 

It made sense—between the seasickness and medication, plus his newfound place in life—to be tired.

“Well, why don’t you polish my boots and then lie down once your medications work,” Leslie suggested.

He gave Cloud a brush and shoe polish and the boy got to work, silently cleaning the boots as requested. Leslie watched—the blond spikes bobbing subtly, long golden lashes lowered to keep his eye on his work. He was a conscientious worker. That was a good thing, Leslie thought.

Once the shoes were polished well enough to look new, he dismissed Cloud to the cage, and he took away the boy’s towel. Cloud fought for a moment, clutching tightly to his only covering. Blue eyes stared up into gold, desperate and afraid.

“You do remember the little chat we had yesterday? About _obedience_?” Leslie reminded the boy casually. 

Cloud nodded and licked his lips, averting his eyes and letting go of the towel.

“I’m sorry. Sir.” His voice could barely be heard in the room.

“There’s a good boy,” Leslie said, watching with interest as Cloud curled up on himself, relaxing on the cushion. He was lovely to see when he yielded. Leslie petted Cloud’s head with affection, admiring the boy’s shy, sweet nature. Cloud was turned away, his smooth back rounded softly. The vertebrae of his spine were perfectly aligned, gently curving against the pillow. The dimples on his lower back begged for attention, but Leslie just watched him. Within just a few minutes, the blonde was asleep again.

And so, Leslie established a new routine. Twice a day, while Cloud slept off his medications, Leslie would stroke him to completion, cleaning him up afterward at night, leaving him to believe he’d just had a wet dream during the day. Leslie always made sure to run his fingers through the soft spikes on Cloud’s head while taking care of the blonde's sexual needs.

Leslie thought the task would grow tiresome. However, when he was treated to Cloud's soft breathy sighs and the pink embarrassed blush that would creep into his ears, Leslie discovered this to be one of the best parts of training Cloud.

And it worked. Leslie noticed Cloud’s response had changed. When Leslie occasionally ran his fingers through Cloud’s hair, the boy blushed and attempted to hide his obvious erection. It was adorable and attractive—exactly what would be essential for Cloud’s future at the Honey Bee Inn.

Additionally, Leslie taught Cloud how to kneel as was the custom with all Midgar slaves. Cloud was uncomfortable at first, but eventually, he adjusted his posture and began to see this submissive pose as a way to relax. Whenever Leslie would leave the cabin, if Cloud wasn’t sleeping or performing small tasks, he’d ask the boy to kneel. Cloud did well and didn’t earn himself any further chastisement.

Leslie added chores to Cloud’s daily routine, encouraging him to wash clothes and polish Leslie’s boots, make the bed and neaten the cabin. Cloud remained docile and tired, but he didn’t complain or act contrary. In fact, Cloud was so well-behaved that Leslie worried he might not be able to issue another physical punishment before they arrived at Junon’s port.

Well, Leslie could always set up Cloud to fail. The journey at sea lasted about a week. The day before their arrival, Leslie set up a scenario he knew he would fail. At this point, Leslie had grown accustomed to Cloud’s compliance and good nature. A quiet part of him was hesitant about forcing the situation into something he knew would be unpleasant for Cloud. It was a necessary learning experience, of course, and part of Leslie’s job. Cloud had to learn his place, despite Leslie’s growing affection for the obedient boy.

That last day at sea, Cloud was feeling better. He wasn’t ill or vomiting, and he didn’t require the same dose of seasickness medication as he had before. Leslie had returned to the cabin to find the boy waiting patiently in the middle of the floor on his knees, exactly as he had been left. He’d washed his clothes that morning, so he was resting silent and naked, except for the shackles between his wrists and ankles and the collar around his neck. He was truly a sight to behold. When Leslie walked in, Cloud lowered his eyes.

Leslie had finished a lavish lunch with the crew and returned with a small plate of salad and fruit for Cloud. He’d deliberately lightened the boy’s meals on this journey, which wasn’t a hardship for Cloud since he’d been so sick. But Leslie planned to force the boy to earn himself a punishment before he would have his meal.

“Good boy, Cloud,” he purred, walking up to the naked young man on the floor. He began combing his fingers delicately through the blond strands of hair, delighted in the feel of the silky hair beneath his hand.

As he’d been conditioned, Cloud’s sexual response heated up instantly. He shifted subtly on his knees and kept his eyes down, humiliated and confused at the state of his groin. He was getting hard from a simple touch to his hair and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t _like_ Leslie. He wasn’t attracted to him. He believed Leslie to be unkind and cruel. So _why_ was his body responding this way? He couldn’t understand or forgive himself.

“Don’t come, Cloud,” Leslie said, knowing full well that during the past two sessions while Cloud slept, he had brought the boy to orgasm without even touching his erection. Of course, his body had been thoroughly conditioned without his knowledge.

Cloud gasped and trembled, struggling to maintain his position, that humble kneel, even as his muscles tightened. His entire body was throbbing—his thoughts spinning a million miles an hour, all filled with flashes of the gorgeous silver-haired prince in his dreams.

“Please—sir—um—I _can’t_ —”

“You _can_ and you _will_ obey me,” Leslie ordered, still touching his hair, sweeping his fingers down the boy’s nape. “If you disobey me, you will be punished.”

Instead of the threat snuffing out Cloud’s arousal, it did the opposite. Horrified, mortified, and disgusted with himself, Cloud squeezed his eyes closed and curled his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms— _anything_ to avoid his arousal. Everything increased it. Every tender touch and every motion—every sound from his lips, the soft gasps especially lewd, he thought— _all_ of it brought Cloud up to the edge of climax, leaving him panting for breath.

He couldn’t hold himself back, even though he _knew_ he’d be punished. He was devastated, tears rolling down his face—which Leslie found utterly exciting. The confusion on Cloud’s face only spurred more ideas in the back of his captor’s mind. The only thing Cloud could do was grab his erection and squeeze, forcing the arousal to the back of his mind and sharp pain to the front. 

“I’m sorry—I’m _so_ sorry—I can’t help it— _please_ , sir, I’m sorry,” he babbled, maintaining his kneel with his back rounded and tears dripping to the floor. Leslie had already told him he was forbidden to touch himself, and Cloud knew he’d disobeyed. But he hadn't had another choice! He would have spilled over otherwise.

Leslie took a step back and lifted Cloud’s chin to meet his eye.

“I’m sure you are sorry. But you know better than to touch yourself. Your body is off-limits now. I need to punish you just the same. You must learn to control yourself.”

At those words, Cloud flinched, jumping off the floor and away from his handler, pressing himself against the wall. His sudden movement was swift, unexpected, and elegant. Leslie was impressed by how elegantly Cloud could move and equally surprised by it.

“Please, sir—I don’t know what is wrong with me—I’m not usually like this— _please_ —I’ll be good—” Cloud blubbered, unable to control his fear.

“Oh, come now, Cloud,” Leslie said with some amusement in his voice. “You can’t go anywhere, you know. Be a good boy and listen to me. Lie facedown on the bed.”

“No—please…”

Leslie hadn’t seen any trace of rebellion in Cloud in the past few days, and the young man's resistance took him by surprise. At the same time, it thrilled him to his core. This was the _perfect_ opportunity to teach the new slave another lesson.

“Stop,” Leslie said softly. At once, Cloud froze where he was—and his body went limp, falling to the floor. The spell shimmered from his collar and soaked into his body. Cloud couldn’t move or speak, but he whimpered, the panic obvious in his voice. Leslie approached and hauled the boy’s smaller body onto his bed.

“You know, this would be so much easier on you if you would just obey,” he murmured into Cloud’s ear. 

However, in Leslie’s mind, having to manhandle Cloud and arrange him on the bed was a pleasant experience for him. It reminded him of posing an expensive doll—albeit a naked doll with perfect skin and soft curves and dips. He took care to turn Cloud’s head to the side, facing the wall, so he wouldn’t know what was coming.

Leslie wandered to the closet filled with his equipment. For this punishment, he chose a clear plastic paddle. This would produce a stingy, bruising pain, leaving redness and possibly welts behind that would take some time to heal. Leslie would be able to remind Cloud of his place and threaten him with further punishment after using this implement.

As he approached the boy, prone on the bed, he took a moment to pull his legs about shoulder-width apart. Really, he’d never seen a young man with such an attractive figure. The welts from the belt and the riding crop had healed, leaving his skin unblemished, creamy ivory. The implement he’d chosen would allow him to see each blow clearly and watch the flawless skin bloom into pink and red. He casually trailed his fingers down Cloud’s ass and thighs, sighing with longing.

 _Longing_. The thought disturbed Leslie quite suddenly. Who _was_ this creature—with his odd blond hair and sparkling sapphire eyes—to be able to tempt _Leslie_ , who had escorted the most luscious and well-trained courtesans of Midgar? It was simply astounding—as if the boy possessed some magical attraction that would draw in his admirers, despite their efforts to resist. This was the first day Leslie worried that _he_ might be the one to spoil Cloud’s innocence—if the boy kept up this insane temptation.

A soft whimper sounded from the mattress beneath him. Cloud was frozen—and he could only release muffled sounds. After running his fingers through the boy’s hair—with the specific intent to arouse and stimulate—Leslie drew back and settled into the punishment.

“Listen, Cloud,” he said. “Your role is to _obey_. _Nothing_ belongs to you from this point forward. Even your pleasure is not your own, and will only be given to you upon your master’s command. I will condition your body to submit for your own good.”

Even before he finished the words, Leslie drew the paddle back and spanked it against Cloud’s rounded cheeks. He used a significant amount of force, enough to make a loud sound, but not enough to damage the boy. Cloud’s ass jiggled around the paddle and a louder protest escaped his lips. The first blow left a pink rectangle on the pale skin.

Without waiting for Cloud to recover, Leslie spanked him over and over—scattering the paddle against his ass and upper thighs, thrilled with the growing painful glow on perfect skin. Each blow was followed by a stifled groan. The groans shifted to wordless to pleas for mercy, but Leslie kept up the punishment. He occasionally carded through Cloud’s soft hair, caressing him with the intent to arouse. And soon, Cloud’s tearful pleas changed into something sultry.

The sounds filling up the cabin—loud smacks of the paddle and moaning, begging cries—were an enticing mix, and Leslie took advantage. As the boy remained under the Stop spell, he couldn’t move, and his ass and thighs looked lovely as they jolted from the force of the paddle. Because Cloud’s thighs were slightly spread, Leslie watched as the boy’s balls contracted between his legs. And then, Leslie lowered the paddle to alternate between swatting the fleshiest part of Cloud’s ass and the juncture of his thighs.

Cloud gasped and panted in between cries of pain, stunned and humiliated at his body’s response to the pain. It felt weirdly good—arousing in a strange, unfamiliar way. He squeezed his eyes closed, wishing he could cover his mouth, and his mind lit up with the image of the punishment in Nibelheim's town square. It had _hurt_ —terribly. But when Cloud remembered the sound of Prince Sephiroth’s low voice, slipping into his ears like the softest of silk, his imagination flew away with him. He imagined Sephiroth’s hands soothing his burning skin with cool gloved fingertips. The prince had done this when he’d healed Cloud. But something in Cloud’s memory was enchanted and enticed by anything having to do with the prince. And soon, he was helplessly aroused beyond all reason.

Once again, Cloud found himself hounded toward the precipice of orgasm. Only this time, Cloud couldn’t even reach down to prevent himself from spilling over. A loud sob stole from his mouth as he came, spilling against the expensive sheets of Leslie’s bed. Blood rushed into Cloud’s cheeks and ears, once his orgasm had rattled him thoroughly—and thankfully, Leslie slowed the frenzied blows.

Leslie looked down at the mess of the boy on the bed. His ass was cherry red but not bruised. The spell seemed to be wearing off since the boy’s chest was hitching in sobs. He truly was _gorgeous_ —and Leslie’s idea of Cloud as his golden ticket shifted. Because _the boy was gorgeous_. A strange protective urge strained against Leslie’s chest, which made no sense. He’d been the one who was training Cloud and punishing him. But Leslie went with his gut and dropped the paddle onto the bed.

He climbed up next to Cloud, so he could get a good look at the sobbing blonde’s face. Cloud couldn’t speak yet, but tears were running down his cheeks and had soaked the bed. Leslie reached out and fingered the soft spikes on his head, then drew his hand down Cloud’s spine, exploring the form of the delicate bones, resting on the dimples on his lower back just above his hips.

“There, there,” he cooed. “You did very well. I don’t like to punish you, but I need to make sure you’re prepared for your new life.” He brushed aside Cloud’s tears, mesmerized by the sparkling cerulean eyes staring back at him. “You will do well, Cloud. You will be a great success. Once we modify your behavior into perfect obedience, you will be the most famous bed slave in all of Midgar.”

The words slid into Cloud’s ears and settled into his stomach. The very idea that he would be used for anything of the sort—to meet the sexual fantasies of strangers—disgusted him. His body tried to revolt and escape, but he was still under the effect of the Stop spell. He tried to plead for mercy, but he couldn’t move his mouth. 

“You’re gorgeous, Cloud. And I’m pleased with how you handled your discipline. Now, we need to make sure you can maintain this sort of compliance even without being under a spell.”

The idea that this would be a part of Cloud’s daily life horrified him, sent a chill up his spine, and made him shudder in revulsion. Surely, _someone_ would find him. He couldn’t become the most famous slave in Midgar and _not_ attract the prince’s attention. Could he? Although, Cloud couldn’t imagine the prince would be the type of person who would find his companions through any sort of paid service. No, Sephiroth was the type of man who would attract companionship from everywhere, probably more attention than he wanted.

Only numbness registered as Leslie rose from the bed and returned with a bottle of soothing cream for Cloud's ass and thighs. It burned upon contact, causing Cloud to hiss, but he couldn’t move. He’d soiled the bedspread as well, and he was sure he’d be punished for it. But that punishment didn’t come. Instead, Leslie used care and tenderness when he turned Cloud to his back and wiped him down.

Finally, Leslie scooped Cloud off the bed and returned him to the cage. He curled the boy on his side and left the plate with salad and fruit in front of him.

“Good boy, Cloud. Now, replenish your energy and then get some rest. We’ll be back on the road tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you still with me, I hope you enjoyed this update. It took me WAY longer to do than I originally planned, but I have some pretty good ideas going forward. I really love your comments and kudos!


End file.
